Bloom

Tulips are my favorite flower. They're beautiful and simple. No complex geometry.

I'm taking care of some that Q got me for Valentine's. I change their water every other day, but they're dying. They were closed when I got them, and I wasn't sure what would happen from there. Then, they bloomed, and I never understood the magic associated with life like that. They bloomed and opened up and reached out for something. They're still beautiful, but there's not much I can do to save them. I can keep changing the water, but the stems will still grow weaker, the petals will reach out too far. They'll wither at the leaves, then at the top of the petals, then altogether.

I don't want that to be the significance of our relationship. I don't want them to show how ephemeral all this is. It hurts and, for the while, we aren't together, but I don't want to see my relationship in the dying petals of a beautiful flower, my favorite flower.

I want us to come out of this unscathed, but I do need to be alone for a while.

A while.