I never give a girl flowers. Something about a gift, ideally, is that it makes and holds a special weight with someone. The key chain that reminds me of your smile when I hold it in my hand, the sweater I wear when I want to impress someone and I only am thinking of you. Flowers have been commonplace, if you like a girl, give her pretty flowers, but why?
If I had to pick a favorite flower it would probably be an Orchid. I don’t have a particular reason other than my mother liked them. She always bought them at the end of the summer. She says they remind her of her mother. Maybe its coincidence that her mother died when she was young and flowers die before they can really grow. I can understand maybe remembering a beautiful life with the life of something beautiful.But why do we buy something just to have it die?
I never give a girl flowers because it the clique that we all to often avoid confrontation with. We are beautiful for a moment and then our moment is gone. We are destined for a decadent process of decay and exponential fragility. There is hope that your beauty could be preserved, but it’s never the same and it’s never perfect. That’s the truth in flowers and in life. We are here for a beautiful moment and then we’re gone. With an uncharted task: whether it’s for your birthday, your moms birthday, any occasion, any survivable moment. It seems oddly existential that we celebrate life with something that is already dying.
I never give a girl flowers because she deserves something better than death. She deserves a smile when she reaches into her pocket or looks at her ears in the mirror. She deserves to know she is more important than just a moment, and that you love her even after she has started to wilt. She deserves something more that a moment of beauty.
Drunk Poetry Experiment 