What can I possibly give you today? Not much. Only a spray of flowers. I’ll leave them by your door and through your tears you’ll see white lilies and lavender and baby’s breath, scooped from a pond of mermaids. There’ll be red flowers too: scarlet, majestic, like blood staining tissue. I'll wrap them simply so you’ll pick them up and hold not fancy curls and foil but just a sheath of flowers, like a child, like a farmer holds wheat. I'll write your name on a scrap of parchment and drench it in dyes of maroon and amber and saffron, like the sunset we know is coming and I’ll sprinkle it with nutmeg and cinnamon and through your pain and fury and harrowing loneliness you’ll know you are loved. ✱✱✱
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