the act of picking flowers
I love you so much that I killed a living being and presented you with it's corpse.
It's a beautiful little bloody thing that you'd appreciate
of course, I thought of you when I committed murder
there's no better way to express my fervor toward you.
This plant-based passion delights all your senses
bright red pedals, so delicately scented,
wrapped around a thorny stem and set inside my hand,
and when I look into your eyes you know that everything expires.
Everything except the love that I feel for you,
which extends its existence by feeding off the death of lower things,
including other interests I may have, and both our bodies.