THE PLANT I COULDN'T KEEP ALIVE
- Aug 1
- 1 min read
By A.N. Szymanski
They say to talk to plants,
to sing, to whisper love into their stems.
I did.
It never perked up,
just drooped,
like it had already decided
to ghost me politely.
I gave it water, light,
my midnight thoughts, my half-hope.
Maybe that was the problem,
not neglect,
but too much of me.
It died quietly,
like it was proving a point.
Even something rooted
would rather rot than stay with me.