When you pick a flower
you always choose the best one
the prettiest one
the one that smells the best
you bring it into your house
you bring it into your life
and every time you walk by it
sitting in your windowsill
you enjoy its presence
but when it dies it’s gone
you throw it away
and you don’t spend
or months
or years
remembering the way
each of its petals were shaped
or how it smelled best on sunny afternoons.

No, you enjoy it
while you have it
then you let it go
and you continue
to pick other flowers.

He is your flower.

And god only knows
you picked him
for the best of reasons
but he has wilted in his vase
and you have continued to water him hoping he will come back to life
hoping he will bring you
the same joy you once had together.

But you silly girl
you should know by now.

You can’t hold on to something
that’s already gone.

an amateur gardener (via fuckyouveryveryymuch)