The Gist

That flowering plant we sew once,
I am looking at it, and
Scouring through the alleys,
Of recollections, not so vivid
Amorphous, by itself…
I find myself surrounded with
Sporadic flashes, abstract!
It’s difficult at times, you see;
To piece those fragments together
And in my mind, create a figure
Which I wanted you to be,
Not what you actually are, I know
I am selfish in that regard!
The weakness I know I have,
The reason I do not say much now
For I made mistakes
For we, made mistakes.
There is delusion,
Of beliefs, of thoughts.
We know,
We can never remediate
We know,
We can never conciliate.
We destroyed, the thing,
We, destroyed us.

The flowering plant,
Like many others
Has stopped blooming.
The garden, seems
Very withered now…