That’s Okay

You beam your radiant smile in my direction, though I know it’s not for me. I can only smile in return, feeling the painful stir within my lungs.

That’s okay.

You set our time together aside, left to wilt like a flower in the bite of winter, to walk by her side, your hand clasped tightly in hers. Heart aching, still I smile, drinking in the wavering glow of your brilliance. The first flower comes, blossoming where you stood.

That’s okay.

I smile and tell you that I’ll always be there for you. You thank me with that same smile, though its breathtaking radiance has gradually dimmed. You hug me, but it carries the feel of emptiness. There’s a hint of red; it stings, sharp and deep, as it coats my quivering smile.

That’s okay.

The flowers come quickly now; carnations, pure white and in full bloom, delicate petals stained crimson. A symbol of love, but a love left in the cold darkness, forgotten. Concrete floors shimmer in the unnecessary fluorescent light, reflecting deadly crimson. Breathing comes in short puffs as the flowers continue to spill forth, falling off the tip of the very tongue I used to tell lies. Lies to you, and especially to myself.

Carnation after carnation landing in silence. White petals now drip completely with cold crimson. The world spins and dims, and the flame of my heart that held you close begins to die. With the setting of the warm sun now cold, winter finally falls. The time of distant summer radiance has come to an eternal end.

A lone carnation, white as snow, and petals dipped with the final essence of life remains.

That’s okay.