she was a corpse flower
with tendrils
that swept across
the everdusk
of my wilted sorrow

the sticky pollen
coated everything
in the open air market
of this strange
secondhand soul

she never feared
burning down
the haphazardly stacked
tinder bundles
of hopeful adoration

now the world
is covered in ash
as the sickly sweet scent
of corpse blossom
taints all