The last of the flowers I bought you will be dying. Only a week ago your rooms were filled with colour. With the smell of life. Symbols of my love for you, placed carefully around surfaces in clean, transparent vases. Vases which I would have filled again but will likely now stand empty.

We separate flowers from the soil for our own happiness. We shorten their lives to have them closer to us.
              A sacrifice for the one we love.

You filled me with life. I was transparent with every emotion for you. You filled my life with colour, but now I stand empty.

You separated us for your own happiness. But I accept your decision.
              A sacrifice for the one I love.