The Orchid

by Nina Massey

I had an orchid gifted to me
by a man I loved.
I placed it on a windowsill
where the rays of the sun
could wrap it in a delicate light.

I watered it
when the soil began to dry.

I watered, and I loved,

and I watered, and I loved,
and loved, and watered.

The leaves began to wilt,
and the colors that could once be compared
to the delicate pink
that quilts the sky at sundown
began to fade.

I continued to water
in a helpless attempt
to pour life back into its roots.

It faded, and I watered,
and I watered, and I loved,
and the pot overflowed,
and he continued to fade away.

The day he left,
he told me
that I had killed the orchid
by giving it too much water.
I watered too much.
I loved too hard.