This one I tried to keep alive but the forget-me-not was dying

There is another sweet flower down the garden path and again I beg myself not to do it but the begging is no good and again I think of the sweet thing as love long gone, as if back to visit for a brief time and without words speak of all that could not be said, I will look on it with eyes full of wonder and admiration for it’s beauty and those same eyes will cry that such a thing should have to die. Whether I beg it to stay or not it never makes any difference, it will be gone all the same and again I will torture myself and will watch it die and bury it and grieve for it and pray that soon too I may be the brief flower on this earth so that I may be sweet and be gone so my mind and heart may stop feeling everything, the beauty of this world.