Each guy that she dated
would buy her a vase.
The gentlemen faded;
their sentiment stays.

Her case full of trophies:
a failed entourage
embraced in the stories
of floral barrage.

The thought of their flowers
brought light to her face,
the gifts of past lovers’
uncounted bouquets.

This whole floral orgy,
it had me quite stunned:
she hoarded the glory
her beauty had won.

Interred at the bottom,
a lead crystal vase.
It hurt her to toss them
(she ran out of space)

The last was a poignant
new romance begun,
but some disappointment—
I left her just one!


© 2023 Mateo Vélez