Bouquet

A dried bouquet
Inside a box
Inside my room
A dried bouquet
Inside my head
They left too soon
A dried bouquet in the corner brings tears to my eyes
Left me sobbing on my bedroom floor last week
Because that's how things work now
Nothing says it's over like her dried bouquet in my room instead of hers
It's no one's fault.
It's these things that make me pull my knees to my chest
It's dried bouquets and aged poetry
Notes in my journal from girls who run away
Old pictures on Facebook and a brother who yells at me
Because he's dying inside and doesn't know what to say
Cluttering my desk up and perfume before bed
An old note from Joseph, late nights on my blog
Waking up from a nightmare and taking a breath
Burning tears in my eyes when I can't write a song
A pile of schoolbooks, a song on my playlist
My well-known "talents" that I don't actually have
A text from Rebekah, tear stains on my blanket
Watching him leave and then going to class
It's these things that make me a little afraid
That the sadness is too much for me to overtake
So now, on myself, I'm calling out checkmate
It's the only word I can articulate