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.