So before the flowers exist again. Tell me your sweet secrets. Let them flow seamlessly into me until I am completely consumed. Until I am begging for more, but unsure whether I can take it. I beg and scream and plead like a spoiled brat for your words. When the silence sets in, all I’ve ever wanted was to hear your voice. Any letters sound better after they’ve touched your tongue. Then just like everything else that flies too close to the fun… they rot.