windblown,
i let the shredded petals go.
one by one,
plucked by my fingers,
i watch them as they spiral
to the ground.
one remains,
clinging to the pistil
held loosely in my hand.
i turn my eyes to you.
you simply smile and say,
“now you know my answer,”
before turning around
and away.
how roundabout,
your systematic process
of breaking a heart.
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