Rotting flowers can still smell sweet

Even as you leave

Behind lies a trail of smoke and ash

A renegade, you pulled the latch

The greenhouse blew up

It was your mistake

But as bitter as it tastes

The smoke is nostalgic

And the thought was still sweet

You blew a greenhouse

Because there were weeds

That neither of us could unroot

You blew a greenhouse up for me

Your presumed a rotting rose

Your still sweet to me