You should see the way you look at those flowers at your feet. Like they are to blame,
like they are the reason
that your life is so hollowed out.
There is nothing inside you to bloom.

The heart is a void thing, ready to be filled – always ready to be emptied. Its your soul
that loves, that lives, but the heart, dear, is there to absorb. So put yours in my hands
and let me pour it out for you, empty out the rotting parts and sow new seeds, and water it
with my affection. Let me lay against your chest and speak to it so it may grow, not bigger, but more exquisite.
Vous, avec les yeux vides, you'll grow so beautifully.

Let me caress your budding petals and admire your colors. Restons pour toujours dans cet endroit lumineux,
où je peux toujours vous voir. Je veux respirer votre parfum en cette brise éternelle.