Washy daffodil

Paint me on the canvas of your lungs,
Make me a daffodil that takes its roots into your tissues.
Breathe me. Feel me destroy you
While you’re creating me.
I am something that will make you smile
When you look at me in your deathbed,
And pull the last of you out of you,
Leaving nothing but a devastated shell.
I am your life, your torture, and your end.
I will keep your last smile to myself
Along with memories you’ve had since I’d become a part of you,
And vanish into a spring daffodil.
I will be a washy little flower,
Dull and unnoticed by others;
Just like your last smile.

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