I sometimes ask myself if our love will last. I am filled with doubts and questions about us. I ask you these questions, I ask you about what will happen to us in the future, but you only look at me and smile. You would hold my hand, filling the empty spaces between my fingers with yours and whisper promises that I pray you will keep.
You answer my doubts with flowers. The tulips, lilies and Rosemaries were unspoken words assuring me that all will be okay. The soft petals remind me of your touch, the gentle way you hold me in your arms. The scent reminds me of your breath on my skin as you whisper “I love you” in my ears.
But flowers fade and die. I try to stop it from wilting but the petals drop like unbidden tears. The leaves curl and crumble like broken promises. I put the flowers in the water, trying to preserve its beauty for a little longer.
Again, I ask myself if our love will last and in the wilted flowers, I found my answer.
Are you still in love with me?
You held my hand but looked away and said nothing.