I want a violet for my birthday.

Mother asked me why would a want a violet,
not an arrangement, or a dinner,
or an amethyst ring with little heart shaped diamonds.

Mother wondered why I want a single flower for my birthday.

A violet, to me... is more than a single flower.
It's the first thing I planted in a pot that didn't actually die three days after,
suddenly, like bespelled with an instant wither curse.

Its the same little bush that I moved from a pot
 to the front yard of my fiancee's house.

It's the plant,
that listened to me cry and scream in anger,
and when I did, I swore the flowers closed, and dropped...
like saddened with me,
angry with me.

Not at me.
With me.

I want a violet for my birthday.

One that I can keep in the freezer forever,
because I can't bear to rip out a flower from my only friend,
and when they fall,
I can't steal a tear she has shed.

Those are hers.

So I want a stolen violet, so I can freeze it,
and look at it in the morning,
and think...

How beautiful it is,
to keep you frozen




inside my heart.

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