daisies on your nightstand

it’s been a while since i’ve visited you

so i head to my garden to pick

a handful of daisies

to bring to you.

i stand in the 12 o’clock moonlight

outside the window, confused

why does your bed sheets look so fresh

like they haven’t been touched

in more than 11 days?

my fingers close

tighter! tighter! and tighter!

around the 10 stems my hands crush the stems my anger stems

where are you? where did you go?

i thought

you would wait for me

but why are your sheets so crisp?

the daisies i picked were white,

to have with white wine at 9

like i heard you said you liked

so where are you?

oh god where did you go?

a hand on my shoulder pulls me out of my trance

comes a maiden of 8 not old to dance

says

she’s always loved the daisies on her nightstand

when she sees them at 7 in the morning it helps her withstand

the 6 mundane hours at work

and after she eats dinner at 5

she looks at them with a glass of white wine

but it’s time to leave them

on a marble slab instead

it’s been 4 years

since my beloved’s been dead

it’s the 3rd time i’ve forgotten

it’ll be the 2nd i try

to be the 1st to be by your side

at 00:00

i die