When I first realized you were mine,
the day I told you I loved you and you echoed it back without hesitation,
I thought of a flower
because though our love was beautiful while it lasted
it was bound to die in the end.
Maybe I had already been addicted to caffeine and messy handwriting before I fell in love again,
but I can't say for certain that the latter wasn't a product of the first time I fell out.
If it is assumed that flowers are a metaphor for love,
then coffee and falling asleep are metaphors for my state of mind during our romance -
I needed to love and to feel loved, yet I couldn't have one without destroying the other.
So I chose you over the world and left my body behind,
but when my flower died
I woke up with nothing but remnants of myself.