I tried to visit you again, but you weren't there... when I realized you said the tree had not died until that sunday. I had to talk to you, about the life we both feared might come to be, and also how I wanted to just be there. I couldn't be with you, but I know the way I am those stars just wouldn't disappear. They would just be different, at best just a soft friendly light to guide you through the dark. I want to be your friend, not so I could be near you, but because I cared so much about you that even if I could only make you happy by chatting when you needed, that you would move on to your man and I would move on to some other girl in time... even through all that I could still show how much I cared just by being what I was really good at, an understanding nonjudgmental friend that would never worry about being hurt because you already hurt me worst than you could ever have done by leaving me.
I can really relate to this. Sometimes the most minor things drag me down (like dead birds or something). This poem is a really good description of how that feels. I like your symbolic use of the flower. I also like the use of purple because it seems regal.
I've walked under that tree today, I've walked under many trees today. You know what I found on that journey, for I came to you with my apology, and of all the many steps that followed I knew that was the right thing to do however poorly I may have done so. I know I've made many promises, and of some I fell short from the love of you, but my promise to apply my own style of commenting to your writing I will keep among some others. I know you may never understand, but at no moment did I have anger at you or any other for what has happened, the sorrow was for the challenge to my hope that I've oft repeated defines me, and that I feared I would lose.
There is a purple death, and yes whatever happens it was death, no matter how unfortunate and the permanance of love for me. I don't know how to say how it is possible for me to turn it off and yet remember it all the same, but that was the mystery I warned you of at the start. That chance has faded though not into hatred, but part of my survival involves assuring you of the impossibility of revival. Do not regret what you have done, regardless of how this next chapter plays, for THAT is what will hurt me. If you have me as a friend then many lessons later you will understand why. But I know not how to say such things without sounding callous at this juncture, and want your story at this point in your life to not be further confused than I know it already is and shall be. It is not a time for sharing philosophy that I could hardly relate to you when I had your full attention, you know of what I speak.
Be well my dear, and have fear of nothing. Least of all me...
I shall start my reviews of your work, and in the interest of fairness I will post that poem I wrote in response to unseen distant tears, unabridged in its total honesty.
Short, sweet and to the point. I feel your pain. The despair you feel comes out. However, you could've added a little more. I'm curious as to how it all pans out. You just ended on "purple death" A couple other things happen. Is the flower a purple flower? What was so important about that flower that you had to end with it.