Dying sunflowers

I left them in the dust and did not have the heart to keep them alive. In my eyes, they were dead either ways.

Their stems are soft. Water retention swelled up in its middle, as the ends start to dry and wit like dead wood. I can no longer feel the thin coat of fibres all across the slender stick, they have matted themselves into pricks.

What was once crisp fresh leaves are now rubbers in green. You killed them. Its breathtaking yellow petals curled into one another. They are all preparing on what's to come. Pure death. The faith you designed for them.

Your existence is now toxic to me. You have turned everything that I ever loved before you into hatred. I will never see my once favourite flower with joy. All I will see is you. The one I despise.

You gave me yellow sunflowers, I acknowledged them but repelled their presence; You gave me loyalty, I swept their ashes into a flower pot. I only sympathise for the blossom, crumbling as it is wedged between us. It metaphors everything we were in a nutshell.