She loved to pick flowers for me

The sun is gone and the seasons have ended

There is no more rain to pour onto my skin

I keep breathing in the carbon dioxide

There is no one that needs my oxygen

I am left

A pretty crimson left to wither

Left to stand alone

Before, you made me beautiful, even

Among the verdant gardens kissed by every color in the rainbow

Among the wild flowers dancing with new lovers

I will be nothing more than the suffocating, pressed petals 

Inside the journal you left collecting dust on the bookshelf.