daisies on your nightstand
it’s been a while since i’ve visited you
so i head to my garden to pick
a handful of daisies
to bring to you.
i stand in the 12 o’clock moonlight
outside the window, confused
why does your bed sheets look so fresh
like they haven’t been touched
in more than 11 days?
my fingers close
tighter! tighter! and tighter!
around the 10 stems my hands crush the stems my anger stems
where are you? where did you go?
you would wait for me
but why are your sheets so crisp?
the daisies i picked were white,
to have with white wine at 9
like i heard you said you liked
so where are you?
oh god where did you go?
a hand on my shoulder pulls me out of my trance
comes a maiden of 8 not old to dance
she’s always loved the daisies on her nightstand
when she sees them at 7 in the morning it helps her withstand
the 6 mundane hours at work
and after she eats dinner at 5
she looks at them with a glass of white wine
but it’s time to leave them
on a marble slab instead
it’s been 4 years
since my beloved’s been dead
it’s the 3rd time i’ve forgotten
it’ll be the 2nd i try
to be the 1st to be by your side