Why I don't have hanahaki
Hanahaki isn't real.
We both agreed on it, that it's just another heartbreaker for lovers like us.
But maybe it is.
The night you said you didn't love me anymore,
I vomited nothing but bile.
Even after I've brushed my teeth twice, I could still taste it like metal on my tongue.
When you finally said goodbye to me and hung up the phone,
I choked on all the words I couldn't say.
I couldn't breathe, I really couldn't!
I suffocated from your scent that is nothing but a hallucination in my head, like I'm being surrounded by you in a valley of flowers that smelled exactly like you.
Hanahaki isn't real for you, but maybe it is for me.
The way I suffocate from the stems of flowering I love yous that I couldn't say, or the way I grip my chest in pain whenever I hear your words echo in my ear.
So I'll light a cigarette of rolled rose petals and lavender,
because smoke is bad for growing plants right?
But don't worry I won't smoke real cigarettes, because this disease is already bound to kill me first.
Hanahaki isn't real for you but it is for me,
because you don't love me anymore, but I still do.















