The flowers are all but dead
and yet a ghost of their beauty
still dances in my head.
I thought that water and sun
would be all that they need
to survive the ever burning heat
and not become weeds.
But now, the flowers are surely gone
and the grass that remains is burned
into some semblance of a lawn.
Like those flowers who didn’t make it,
my love for you needed more
since the burning heat of passion
burned your soul to the core.
© Autumn Siders 2016