Carpe Diem

I recall remembering that your favorite flower was a carnation,

deep red.

The scent always reminded me of you,

always replaced "Roses are red, violets are blue..."

The aching urge to bloom,

was only met with a pesticide made to kill.

Soon you lay crumpled up, and ill. 

Sometimes I would catch the wind red-handed, 

bringing the oh-so-familiar scent to my lungs,

because then again,

how could I ever forget, what once made you feel young?