WITHOUT FLOWERS

 WITHOUT FLOWERS

You cannot fathom why I'm caught in this endless, fleeting flight,
A shadow slipping through the cracks of dawn's reluctant light.
You deem it my deliberate choice, a scripted exit stage,
As if I've etched escape routes on some hidden, ancient page—
Plans I've been meticulously brewing in the quiet night. I'm no alchemist of agony; I harbor no desire to sting,
To brew elixirs of sorrow that leave your spirit wrung.
Yet when will mere words awaken, gain the power to truly heal,
To stitch the frayed edges of wounds that time alone can't seal?
The heart lies bruised and tender, aching in its silent plight,
But still, I stand unyielding, ready to construct anew,
To gather shattered fragments and forge a path that's true. Meanwhile, you ignite the bridges, letting embers claim the span,
Unmoved by blooms of remorse or whispers of amends unplanned.
No flowers grace your footsteps, no sorrys softly fall,
Nor hints of shared atonement to bridge this growing wall—
Just ashes in the wind, where mutual blame could have begun to mend.