you bought me a potted orchid
for my birthday
but despite my best efforts
it's dying before my very eyes
while i strum away
on my trusty martin guitar
which was a christmas gift
from another lover no less
in a different lifetime
such a fine unfinished instrument
susceptible to humidity
shrinking and cracking
just like the two of us
while the petals fall
onto the floorboards
and the fretboard
pretty soon
i suppose
i'll be all
that i have left
i guess i'll be next
to finally fall apart
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