Flowers 🥀

“She has such a perfect life. I wonder why she would attempt suicide.” I hear the little voices as I walk down to the grocery store. But I keep quiet, what am I to say? But today, today will be different. Today, I’ll speak. Let he who understands the meaning beneath my words, understand why and he who doesn’t? Let him go to hell.

“I’ve been asked to share my life story. Countless times. Different bloggers, different web pages. Everyone keeps on asking what happened. I can’t narrate it. I’m sorry I don’t have the strength to do that. I have written something though. Let those who understand my words decipher what happened because a simple story really can never compliment such a great man.”

My hands begin to shake as I slip my hands in my back pocket in an attempt to bring the paper out. She offers me a sad smile. I see the sympathy in her smile. I really do not care. I’ve received a lot of sympathetic looks in my life time to stop caring what others thought.

I look down at the paper. I take several deep breaths and decide to begin.

“All your favorite poems,

Each and every one of them

Began with

‘Roses are red, Violets are blue.’

So much that you made yourself a violet and me in turn, a rose.

As I turn away from the flower shop,

After buying myself a bunch of white roses,

I wonder why you did it.”

At this point, I noticed my voice had started to shake. I looked over at her, she just gave me the same sad smile but this time, I think it was to edge me on. Anything it was for, it gave me the strength to continue. I look down at the paper again and continue.

“All your favorite poems,

Each and every one of them

Began with

‘Roses are red, violets are blue’

So much that you made your mind up,

Your partner had to be a red rose.

As the blood trickles down my arm now,

After making a cut on the shoulder you so loved to kiss,

Slowly but painfully,

I realize I’m making you a red rose.”

I stop, slightly gauging her reaction. It already started to make sense, didn’t it? This time I didn’t wait for the smile, I continued.

“All your favorite poems,

Each and every one of them

Began with

‘Roses are red, Violets are blue.’

So much that a rose wasn’t pretty if it wasn’t red and a violet was ugly if it wasn’t blue.

As I look down at the petals

After getting them blood stained but not red,

I get very angry.

With you,

With the rose

And most of all, with myself.

All your favorite poems

Each and every one of them

Began with

‘Roses are red, Violets are blue.’

So much that you gave up your life for a red rose. As I read the last message you sent me,

After poking myself in the shoulder blade

Increasing the cuts.

I realize I wasn’t red and definitely not a rose.”

At this point, I could feel her eyes fixated on my shoulder. Her eyes piercing through the bandage probably wondering the depth of the cut? I clear my throat, rummaging through my bag to find my handkerchief. These tears were already marking little marks on this beautiful gown I put on. My last birthday gift from him.

Let’s finish what we started, shall we?

“All your favorite poems,

Each and every one of them

Began with

‘Roses are red, violets are blue’

So much that you believed if a violet wasn’t blue, a rose couldn’t be red.

As I begin to feel my soul leave my body,

After all the pain,

I realize you were wrong.

You weren’t a violet and I definitely wasn’t a rose.

But whatever flowers we were

Had to be compatible

On the other side...”

I finish. At this point, my beautiful dress had been stained with tears. I knew it was a terrible decision to wear mascara today. I feel her about to speak, I stop her by raising my hand.

“Please can I go the bathroom?” I say looking for it in my bag. I find it and smile, hoping she doesn’t notice me slipping it into the side of my dress, I sit up and walk out.

To finish what I already started.

This time, nobody would stop me or in their words, ‘rescue’ me.

I’m coming my love. I’ve very well missed you.

Image from Shutterstock✨