Patrick dear, the flowers are quite magnificent.
You shouldn't have. What's the occasion?
Should I dress for dinner?
Or should we stay in, a quiet evening, just you and I?
I have some wine. It's been so long.

Do as you wish. So glad you like them. He bussed
her cheek perfunctorily, like dusting the furniture.
Can't stay, sorry, running to the club for a quick nine.

The door slammed. The house was silent.
Flowers wilt and die. It is nature's way.
But angry shears dissemble their loveliness
In minutes rather than days.

All things cool.
The heat death of the universe explains so much.
Sunt lacrimae raerum.
The eternal Acropolis wrecked by Roman soldiers
Who left not one stone upon another.
Beauty alone cannot protect against the vicissitudes of time.
Bound iron staves around oaken barrel slats, rusting. The center cannot hold.

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