Flowers

Lilies used to be my favorite. Stargazer lilies are my Mom's favorite. Their bold color, their sweet smell.

Then, it was daisies. Mom had one little daisy in her hair at her wedding. She looked perfect.

But now, there's a new flower.

The wildflower. The beautiful yellow bud that grows from the weeds by the driveway.

Remains

I've packed away your sketch of me,
the card with kites and stars,
the lyric that you read to me
of guns and unhealed scars.
I've left the photos on the wall
the stones, the shack, the flower
I wonder if all you've given me
was ever really ours.
The songs my ears have preyed upon
have preyed upon hers, too.
She's had the songs, the pictures, words
the bed I shared with you.
Despite her lethal aims of war
in shadows lurking near
My brightness can't survive the force
of a heart that holds her dear.
Of all the past mistakes we've spat
and times I've kicked with might
I wonder if I'd shut my eyes
and held my tongue with bite
If I'd recognize the scales you wear
you claim you tried to shed
If I'd recognize the cross I bear
of love, that is now dead.
Instead of holding onto past
I walk through glass today
with all the words still in my head
yet nothing more to say.