Evermore

I fill my home with dried flowers, their faded blooms a reminder that while outward beauty withers, the essence within endures forever.

Just kidding, I am not that deep. I do it because no one is buying me fresh ones.  

And even if they did, it’d probably be to make up for something they said,  or did, or made me feel— 
An apology in petals. 

At least these dried flowers don’t carry the weight of what I have accepted for myself.