You gave me flowers.
I remember;
It was our first date.
“Peonies, your favourite.”
You told me.

We picnicked amongst the flowers.
I remember;
We felt like young children playing in the flower beds.
Our relationship blossomed,
We must have looked like flowers to the flowers.

It was our first anniversary.
You gave me flowers.
I remember;
“Happy anniversary.”
You said as you placed a kiss upon my forehead.

We soon became like the Peonies you gave me.
We blossomed in the same way they did;
Each petal opening up so as to reveal a new petal, & that cycle continued.
We had so many layers of each other to discover.

But nothing in nature blossoms all year.
If you don’t nurture your garden, nothing will grow.

…

It was the third time i saw the texts on your phone to other women.
You gave me flowers.
I remember;
You left them on the kitchen counter.
“I’m sorry. I love you.”
The note read.

You gave me flowers.
I remember;
“I’m sorry. I love you.”
After our fifth argument that week.

I remember;
All the flowers you gave every week.
Their aroma filled the house.
But the smell wasn’t particularly pleasant.
The flowers were there so as to mask the smell of a decaying home.
A relationship rotting away.

Peonies were out of season & so we’re we.
I’ve buried all my fondest memories of you,
But I’ll still bring flowers to your grave.

[Artwork by Noel Badges Pugh]