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Wilted
When you were gone,
 Your flower wilted.
 It had purple petals,
 A—what did you call it?
 An orchid. It wilted.
 I swear I watered it
 Every single day,
 And I put it in the sunlight
 Where its pretty face
 Tried to smile.
 I talked to it at dinnertime,
 The way you used to do,
 Telling its leaves about
 My troubles and worries
 As if it could absorb them
 And breathe them into oxygen.
 But it wilted.
 I think it missed you.

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