On a hazy spring night,
I gave you a gift
with alcohol tainting my breath,
like a sickly poison,
condemning both of us to the morning after.
a delicate blossom with white silk petals,
I gingerly placed in the palm of your hand,
but you fumbled with it too roughly,
crushing the pale petals,
beneath the weight of your glass.
Now I never said I didn't love you,
even though you never believed it,
may I have that flower back?