Graveside Bluebells

Death did not come suddenly for you,

he bloomed like a poisonous flower in your body.

Each petal unfurling, taking another part of you,

until one day, my arms were empty.

Sometimes I worry I’ll forget how I held you,

but then I feel the breath on my shoulder,

the heaviness on my chest.

I never thought I would only see you again in memories.

With his first growth he took your eyes,

thorns blinding you,

darkening your world,

until you couldn’t recognise me.

Then, he seeded root in your stomach,

bulging bulbs under your fur,

growing them until they bled,

rupturing you.

With a last push he stole your walk,

your appetite,

your personality,

your mind;

you cried and forgot and lost yourself.

Then, he knocked on the door,

came into our room,

and as I held you in my arms,

he took you gently from me.

Now all I have left

are the flowers that bloom on your grave,

and some fur in a box.