Friday 30 April 2010

Bouquet.

A bouquet of flowers:
colours screaming for attention.
Scents complementing each other;
nonsense.

Each flower
slowly dying
in
the presence
of another,

they fall apart,
petal by petal,
in slow time.

Standing tall,
jutting out,
strutting;
scents turn
putred.

Beautiful in life,
beautiful in death,
beautiful as they linger
in between,
slowly losing their essence
to closed eyes

until the stink gets too much.

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