Bloom

I never liked flowers. The smell always reminds me of sickness and death. Pretty bouquets with their get well soon cards. Over the top arrangements and their condolences. They never really heal the sick. They never really dull the pain.

The mishmash of scents makes my stomach queasy. The same feeling I get with the antiseptic smell of hospital emergency rooms. Where there are bouquets of roses, orchids, stargazers or what have you, I always expect a bright copper coffin nearby.

But I like the single white rose that they gave me. The whiteness blocks everything, and I am finally alone. To talk. Mostly to myself, while the lone bloom listens. And when everyone released their balloons, white against the blue sky, I finally let go of my rose and its silent message into the bright copper below.

photo from here