If flowers are only beautiful when they bloom
Isn’t that beauty in itself, I assume?
To wish them lovely as they wither away
Maybe that’s just too much to say
But I was greedy, I wanted it all
For everything to be beautiful, standing tall
If we drift apart with the world in between
I thought, maybe that’s fine, that could be serene
Even a pointless bouquet felt right
You made every cost feel light
But slowly, the meaning began to fade
And spending time with you felt like a charade
You always smiled, but you became like me
We both were wilting, just like the trees
One by one, we plucked our petals away
I told myself, it’s okay, at least we weren’t fake flowers on display
The withered blooms hold my tears in their grasp
Hold my tears in their grasp
Hold my tears in their grasp
Hold my tears in their grasp
Hold my tears in their grasp
(But still, they’ve wilted, despite my clasp)