wilting (an original poem)

the sunflower's standing wilted against the rain. i ran out of fertilizer yesterday.

it hasn't been nourished enough. 

it must be rough to not have enough

love or attention paid to you. 

i know that it is. i'm sorry flower. i wish things could go back to the way they used to be.

but they can't.

i could always go out and buy new seeds. i could leave the sunflower to rot in a shed somewhere. 

and forget about it.

but i still won't.

i still stand next to it, and the rain is pouring. it's so dark. the clouds are thick. 

it feels like when my mother would grab my arms and force me down, when the raindrops pelt my back and shoulders.

the sunflower is still there, swaying and swinging violently against the wind. i want to protect it, but i can't. i'm not a farmer, and i've proved that thus far.

the sunflower will do better without my help. all i'm doing is sitting here getting wet.

but i didn't leave the sunflower. 

the rain has been going on for months now. i'm hungry. i could pluck the sunflower out of the ground. i could rip its drained roots from the soil and eat its seeds to keep me alive. 

but i don't. i don't like sunflower seeds.

today, i decided to stand up and go for a walk. the sunflower was still in its usual spot. its petals are browned and have mold growing on the edges. i made sure to keep it in the corner of my eye as i walked laps around it.

this did not stop the mold from eating at its petals, and then its leaves. it didn't stop the stem from turning to dust in the rain, crumbling from the rot. 

i stayed by the decimated sunflower's remains from a little longer. i am still next to them, in fact. my hands are blue from the cold. my pen hand's soaking wet. 

but the sunflower needs me. it needs me. 

right? 

i like this muddied, broken pile of plant debris.

it can't respond, but maybe it'd like me too if i stayed for a little while longer.