Watering dead Orchids

by 23:59 0 comments
(i) Every morning, I refresh the water
in my flower vase that has dead orchids in it. 
The petals have fallen out, 
the stem’s been too weak to support itself, 
and they don’t smell the way they used to.

(ii) Every evening, I play the same song on repeat, 
and think of who I was the first time I ever heard it, 
and why I keep wanting to hear it, 
over, and over, 
and over again. 
I still don’t know why.

(iii) I make coffee for myself and sit in my balcony. 
It rained today, 
and yesterday, 
there are puddles that were filled again, 
before they could even empty themselves. 
I wish the puddles reminded me of 
the distance between us. 
They don’t.

(iv) The doorbell of my house is extremely loud, 
every time it rings, I feel a little strange, 
every time it rings, it reminds me that I’m loved, 
and that silence isn’t my only company. 
On most days, it is the newspaper, 
on others, it’s my electricity bill. 
Lately, I’ve been using the newspapers
to cover up my windows, 
the curtains have worn themselves out over time, 
and I’ve realised, 
I don’t really like the sunrise too much. 
And I miss the sunsets, 
I don’t really like watching them anymore, 
they remind me of days, 
I didn’t want to see, end.

(v) My record player doesn’t work anymore, 
I miss the music,
the dancing, 
the freedom of not always having to know what to do. 
I miss who I was. 
So I pretend that I still am who I was. 
I refresh the water in my flower vase, every morning, 
I play the same song on repeat, every evening,
I shut my curtains tights, 
and don’t change my doorbell. 
I don’t fix my record player, 
and pretend it plays the same music every day. 
On some days, I laugh a little too loud, 
and dance like I used to.

_watering dead orchids. 

National Poetry Writing Month, Day 30.

It’s been a really tough month and a tougher challenge to complete and it’s hard to believe that I did it. But here’s to all the people who believed in me and kept me going! 
Thank you for all the inspiration! 

Here’s to 30 days of loud, unedited, fearless poetry!


Post a Comment