The night after she took my virginity
– willingly –
she left for me on my front door
a flower
as a special gift for a special boy.
I thought it was really sweet
but I didn’t say anything
because even though I loved her
I hadn’t said it to anyone yet
– even myself –
so I was trying to play it cool
to ensure my excitement
didn’t nip our future in the bud.

It was a white carnation she left
and it was beautiful
like her
though both lost their bloom fairly quickly
and it was only after that
that I wondered
had she offered me a trade?
Replacing one flower for another?

It wasn’t a bargain I’d asked for
but
it was appreciated
nonetheless.

Other replacements soon followed:
love for betrayal
pleasure for suspicion
argument for exhaustion.
No transfer was as welcome as that first
but all lasted far longer
– some to this day.

The flower
has long since become dust.