Garden of Thorns

Today, I walk the garden where your body lies decaying beneath the dandelions and daffodils you had brought to life with your calloused fingers and careful heart. I trample over them the way you had destroyed me when you decided sunshine and blue skies were not for you. They wither, and I watch -- then I remember the noose around your neck.

Had I smothered you? Did I kill you?

God, I'm so sorry.