Jessica Bullock

Night-Blooming Cereus

Imagine a once-a-year spectacle.

One night to be alive, then death brought forth by morning.

Oh, how I envy the flower that lives for a night.

Peace is brought upon by the dark sky.

It’s when the tears fall, but I would just be watering my roots. 

Right?

Would you forget me if I was dead by morning?

I will never forget you.

Maybe it would be out of resentment, love, or pure hatred.

Please forget me.

Forget the nights I held your hands to my heart.

Forget the nights our lips were inseparable.

Forget the days we laid around together. Alone.

Forget the laughter.

Forget the smiles.

Forget the way my eyes brightened when I saw you.

I try to forget you.

Your genuine laughter.

Your precious stares that made me giggle.

Your rambling about your interests.

The way your fingers ran over my skin.

My mind is blank when I think about trying with someone new.

No emotions.

Complete emptiness.

You may be the last person to deserve it,

but my heart refuses to give my love to anyone else.

It won’t give them my comfort.

My smiles.

My laughter.

My gaze.

I think you are to blame for that, but maybe it’s just my heart making up excuses.

I trust you with my soul and everything in it.

That will never change.

The way I felt was gut-wrenching, physically sickening.

I saw you as perfection. Someone who could do no wrong.

I let myself get lost in the thought that there couldn't possibly be a cost.

It hit me like a bullet straight to my head.

I couldn’t see it coming. I was misled.

Detachment coursed through the carcass left behind.

Flowers grow anywhere though, even in the pile of a rotting mind.

Perfectly imperfect.

I wish to be the flower that lives for one night because 

maybe I could spend it with you, or 

maybe you would just crowd my mind like always for

One.

Last.

Time.