The flowers you gave me

are taking root in my chest.

They branch out, gaining life as I take each breath,

until they press against my ribcage.

Straining, pushing fervently forward and finally

my ribs crack and fracture into fragments.

The fissure where my heart should reside

spills red carnations from inside.

Passionate petals parasailing 

to the ground, collecting at your feet,

thrown by an eager flower boy.

I think you’d look stunning in white.

I’m waiting at an invisible altar,

one which you pass unseeing.

Soft, delicate, and brilliant red

petals rotting in your stead.

Yet still I carry on,

following you like a fumbling fawn.

On trembling legs I pursue

whatever part of you, 

you are willing to give to me.