My Love Must Be a Flower

Mathias P. R. Reding

We leave the residues of our existences everywhere — fingerprints, warmth, kisses, handkerchief. Our breaths are just spent slivers suspended in the air.

Each place on Earth is a giant graveyard, then: a mass burial of bodies, longings, and absences. Death on top of death, a chaotic stack.

It may be easy to confuse it with cruelty. But, even in cemeteries, flowers bloom only to whisper hope — promises of survival to be seen and touched. Mercy.

My love must be a flower.

--

--

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store