Poetry by Taylor

The dried out flowers
hanging from a string
are still upside down.

The synthetic string somehow still
holds on to the less than before
Volume
Less than before 
Life
More than before beauty

Why are you more beautiful dead to me?
Why do I like the look of the fact that no matter how much I water you, you will never grow again.
No matter how much water you drink you cant ever regain a plump stem.

The beauty in death by preservation
give me some more wrinkles
let me lose some petals
let me live while I shrivel
let me die beautifully 

Die by your bed