One day I will sleep so deeply
that no memory, no regret,
no unanswered ache
will be able to reach me again.
And suddenly the people
who could not spare 5 honest minutes
will arrive holding flowers
softly against their chest.
Flowers I once begged for
in smaller ways-
through late-night calls,
through all the times I stayed
hoping love would finally notice me.
Strange, isn't it?
How some people only learn
tenderness when they can no longer
hurt you with its absence.
But hear this carefully-
if your love only blooms
when I am gone,
then it was never love.
It was guilt arriving too late
dressed as grief.