The Last Day of The First Flowers

Getting flowers might be very special but memories of failed voyages that didn't get you to the destination,rather you are left in the middle of a sea leaves agony weighing more than love in the scale

I remember how traumatising it was
When I got my first flowers.
Flowers that are bought for you
Should be meant for you.
Not for others.
You were different.
Should I say initially?
You brought me flowers,
Flowers for me.
And yourself,
For me.
Now one year later.
I even forget to blink
In a marathon of looking at the ceiling.
Because each of the roses you gave
The thorns that I forgot
Come back and stab me.
And I bleed from the puncture wound.
My eyes fixated on the ceiling
Body twisting for not to bleed.
I feel hypothermic.
Good the days of hypothermia coming.
While I will bleed,
The rose that I stole
From the flowers you gave
To keep it as a souvenir
Will dry better in the warmth of
Some old diary pages.