Fake Flowers

Anything you give me is like a fake flower.

It doesn't leave a scent; it doesn't linger. 

Just like your attention. Just like your love. 

The colours are beautiful; it's attractive to look at.

But its plastic touch is rough. Its softness lies in its real counterpart. 

Just like your softness lies in your reality. Your reality is her. 

You’re soft in my dreams.

Anything you give me is inherently artificial. 

It's tacky, it's cheap, available to everyone. 

Just like your time.

I’d like to think fake flowers are special, but they are made to bloom for everyone. 

It doesn't require water; it doesn't require tending. It gathers dust over time. 

Just like your words. 

You bloom with water when she’s the gardener. I’m sure your scent stays on her clothes.

Nobody hates fake flowers, the cost of maintenance is free. Even if they lie through their teeth.

Anything I feel for you is useless.

It doesn’t turn the plastic real; it doesn’t give me your gifts.

My feelings don’t give me…you.