Flowery Homicide

When visiting the hospital, you always bring me flowers just as the previous ones have wilted, leaving me the rest of the time to recall.  We sat there nestled together like a rhyming couplet in a sea of white.  However, we weren't alone.  The strings of blackened ink that held us there, even though we leaned over like icy birches.  At least until you were transplanted, leaning away, choosing to mingle your roots with another.  Only leaving me to decay and reach further.  That's why after you leave I never water the flowers you bring.