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Description
He used to grow flowers
non-metaphorical flowers, real
petal and pollen and pretty flowers and
then he started talking scary and
then he started disappearing and
then he started throwing fists at walls
like flowers at wedding parties and
its no coincidence that the year he
held a knife at her neck
they started dying

So it's a shade of inevitable that I would be here
in a bathtub that is also a canopy that is also
a cave that is also the bed I may drown in
because I was so eager to help move us forward
I pushed us in front of a car which is
a terrible analogy because I don't think
my dead brother would find this funny and
it's only okay if he'd be laughing but
this little mistake, this one word, this
habit could be the signpost of an ending
and I've never thought before why habit has two meanings
but it makes sense now because I have worn
this fear every single goddamn moment
since the day the flowers stopped growing.