The sadness of tulips

No longer white, fresh,
hopeful as Spring,
the blooms he bought,
an apology for
something he'd said;

now only two remain
way beyond their
best-before - one
leaning above the
other, the strong

protecting the weak,
a solitary leaf-curl
clings to the edge of
their temporary home -
a retro Habitat vase -

but you, you are
oblivious - the same
old intrusive thoughts
battering your brain,
as you sink further

and further into the
u-shaped hollow of
your shabby non-chic
sofa; jaws moving
incessantly -

a growing pile of yellow
gum replacing last
year's cigarette ends,
and soon, soon
it will all begin again,

with words, tears, and
the terrible sadness
of tulips