I’ll watch you from faraway
The flower in the windowsill
Who wilts silently
As your eyes are elsewhere
I was pretty once
If the color pink had a shade of grey
That’s what I’d be
When you were little
I was your infatuation
It marveled you that I would be
Your own creation
My stem is bent now
Thorns grow
Once slender and upright
Maybe if I still looked better
You’d want me more again
Give me a little water
Now and then
But now it’s too late for that
Water would only hasten my decline
To the end
It would just drown me
If I could cry I’d be there now
Drowning
Petals offer me no tears
Just more bitter realization
That I am dead to you
An ornament in your windowsill
There because I’ve always been
Nothing more
 
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