What do you say when someone dies?

When the supermarket flowers aren’t enough.

And the food I bring begins to grow old,

Placed on a table, buried by piles of stuff.

I could buy a million roses,

But in a week, they would have died.

They might crumble in your hand,

and they won’t fill the void inside.

I know that the calendar won’t change months,

And the clock will freeze in time,

And the bells will softly taunt you,

when they begin to chime.

So I stand upon your doorstep,

But my hands refuse to knock.

I usually know exactly what to say,

But now, I’m afraid to talk.

I look to the heavens as if they’ll answer,

Today, the sky is more gray than blue,

And I whisper to whoever is listening,

“He cries every time he thinks of you.”

I wish we could fill your hollow bones,

With food, flowers and some dessert.

But you already seem too heavy,

In your eyes, I see all of your hurt.

I guess this is part of life,

I’ll be honest, we don’t know what to do

So I’ll just silently stand here by your side,

I’ll always be waiting here for you.

I’ve always said life moves fast, but,

Buying these roses today was never planned.

And now I’m standing at your door,

Staring at the supermarket flowers in my hand.

Please don't send me

Flowers.

Send me memories

That feel like

the look of steel trash cans

Beneath florescent lights,

with that little streak

Of shine.

Always moving

towards you Like

The eyes of some

Fuckin haunted painting.

Or the notion

Of strippers

Beneath spotlights aimed

By untrained hands,

Just catching

Shadows

Of what you don't know

You missed.

Because the focus

Is shit.

Delayed Like appreciation

Often is.

And I always seem to miss

The things I almost saw.

Maybe that's life.

You only ever

Comprehend the ass

Jiggling

Towards the curtain

As dreams unrealized

Walk away,

Finished and empty

To the sound of applause.

Like the best tits

You never saw

And wish you remembered

But don't ,

But still brag about

Because no one

will ever know

The difference.

Like these

Stainless memories

Framed by charcoal regrets.

So please

Don't send me flowers.

Send me a trash can

To hold the remains.

The half wilted moments

Between inspiration

And oblivion.

I think they call it life

Or some shit.

Please don't send me flowers

killing innocent vines

for a love you know I've forgotten

Please don't send me flowers

I've moved on

the address you've saved outdated

Please don't send me flowers

it hurts to see them die in vain

Jacob,

I write you with much apprehension, yet I am compelled to out of my love for Thomas. It's been roughly a year since I began dating him, but somehow he remains in my life. Why? Why do you allow him to be with me now, when the two boyfriends before him, you decided to brutally remove from my life, and subsequently sent me four black roses each time you made one disappear? I want to be free of you, but I notice your reflection in every window we pass, and never miss your car outside my house most nights until Eleven. Is this a game to you? When will you finally learn I'm not interested? It's been four years since you and I met, and you've forced yourself into my life everyday since; I assume by design, but I can no longer fathom the thought of losing my sweet Thomas, and if you cared about me as much as you have ruthlessly demonstrated, then you would continue to let us to live on, in love. I beg you to leave us alone, and stop following me. Don't hurt him like you did the others. I wish I could say that I would do anything to protect us, but that's not true, because I will never choose to be with you. Please find a way to move on. I know that your love for me feels real, but it's not. So, this time please don't send me flowers.

-Fearfully

Rachel

he sent me flowers,

wrapped in promises.

stems like wires,

love bombs hidden

in every petal.

he told me that

he would

send flowers

every week

because that

was proof that he

loved me.

and i believed him.

reveled in the attention

because i knew nothing else.

but eventually

love bombs

explode

and paint

the sky

with their ashes.

i was

the lucky one

who survived

the nuclear fallout,

who hid in bunkers

until the air

was safe

to breathe again.

but next time

i fall in love,

i'll make sure

i find someone

who doesn't

buy me

flowers.

because flowers

are not a substitute

for love,

nor are they

a synonym.

It’s an ancient, imposing redwood turned hollow, cracked and teetering.

It’s a roaring, great flame turned flickering embers and floating ash.

It’s a gushing, voluminous river turned trickling stream and parched earth.

It’s an original, sparkling home turned withered, dilapidated and rotting.

They don’t tell you how contagious it is – that it’s a mummification of everyone’s soul.

You break as they break.

You wilt as they wilt.

You fade as they fade.

They don’t tell you how agonizing it is – being the bystander, the one left behind.

So no, please don’t send me flowers, for before long, it’ll be another helpless reminder of lush vitality decaying slowly into dust.

The hole in my fence explained my garden's desecration. My neighbor's dog had pulled my plants from the roots and hundreds of yellow and red petals lay in my grass. I knocked on the blue door and was immediately met with the dogs barking. A minute later my neighbor opened the door. I explained the situation to which he apologized for the destruction and promised to fix the fence.

After this, I returned to my backyard and spent hours trying to repair the damage. I salvaged the untouched flowers, racked up the petals, and planted new seeds.

That evening, there was a knock on my door. I was greeted with a bouquet of sunflowers and roses wrapped in blue tissue paper. Some of the flowers looked crumpled and the stems were not straight but rather jagged as if they had been torn from their roots. There was a handwritten note with no address that read:

¨To replace what was lost. Sorry for the mess

Forever yours¨ .

Please don’t send me flowers

I won’t know what they mean

I’ll think you really care

And hope for things unseen

Flowers bring birds

But I can’t hear them sing

No birds, no bees, please

I can’t take the sting

petals pressed in enveloped sleeves, know, please

hearts need more than undug, rooted holes. don't

plant promises you can't uphold, try to send

hope in forms of light on fragmented souls; me--

i like how they sparkle like stained glass. flowers

grow then die at your fingers, just as men. please,

borrow and barter memories--don't

pluck delicacies, it wilts them to tragedy. send

bottled words tightened by actions; know me

as the lover who craves time. not, flowers.

Bring them.

Bring them,

...one by one

Every day.

Every day,

...stem by stem

In your teeth.

In your teeth,

...step by step

To my feet.

To my feet...

Oh, confounded, just come empty handed!

We'll pick dandelions from the cracks

of the walkway out back,

And toss straight water from the tap,

If you'll only wrap yourself around

these wilted shoulders now,

And let us bask...

01.30.23

Please Don't Send Me Flowers Challenge @Finder