Graveyard of flowers

This debilitating illness

becomes one

where flowers

meant to heal

are now

the poison

bringing us closer

to our loves grave.

Flowers, although pretty,

only come

as an after thought.

Each bouquet 

representing 

another failure.

Only when you see my tears

do you realize 

that once more

I am broken

once more

I've been shown

total disregard.

I don't think there is a tree,

garden large enough

to accommodate

the sorry's

of tomorrow

that you intend to break

on every other

today.

Our headstone now 

overflowing

in an beautiful array of color 

proving our love 

as only a "sorry's"

memory.