Flowers for Another

I smashed the vase against the wall,

watching the water splatter in odd shapes

as the flowers lay dying a slow death

on the worn carpet.

They weren't for me,

Each petal bore the name of another.

You told me they were for me,

then later confessed you bought them

for someone else

before deciding to give them to me instead.

Now you wonder why I'm mad,

why I'm not patting you on the back

for your good decision.

Well, I'm fresh out of "pats on the back"...

fresh out of forgiveness, understanding and vulnerability.

That gaping wound of a heart you keep stabbing?

Watch it slowly close before your eyes,

shutting you out completely.

Try to hurt me now.