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FAKE FLOWERS

Shelley Whalen

Love can’t take it, I know,
because I tried.
At least, our love couldn’t make it,
because whenever I see you now
there is always a cold, sneering
“Hello”
that comes out of me
that is reserved only for you.
The rose garden I grew for us
wilted the day you asked me
if I loved you,
and I lied.
I tried to replace
real petals with ones made of fabric,
stems made of plastic,
but the thorns to hinder you from reaching them
stayed real all the same.
They say that
fake flowers last forever;
but they burn just as easily.

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