Deciding Flower

every kiss had felt like it mimicked the last,
the final
so I cherished them like the ending petal on a
deciding flower
but in my triumph, I stopped being a thing to
decide about.

A flower, nothing more than growing,
not a verdict but I got picked—plucked
but not for the sake of watching me wilt
I am preserved, now
the hands that asked me
about love-me-nots
have pressed me
into a book

Originally published in the 2016 FACETS at the Butler County Community College.