Petunia x hybrida — Summary

ionna_kAnxious

Nothing matters anymore? I watch silently Each day passes gruesomely slow, I can no longer tell whether or not I'm stuck in a dream.

I guess it really doesn't matter how long I've been here. The room seems to be closing in as the hours pass, Hours that turn to days then weeks, and weeks to months. At least he's here with me.

Him. He watches me with hawk like eyes. Feeds me each day, Cleans me up and tells me stories of the world outside these walls. His voice. His smooth velvety voice is like an anchor, He's the only thing keeping me sane in this hell. His presence alone lights up this dark room.

But I guess it doesn't matter what I feel does it, There's nothing i can do about it in the state I'm in is there. Is there?

Today he comes in a little earlier, Told me he had a surprise for me, "Excitement or is this fear?" I think to myself as my heartbeat races when he looks into my eyes . He takes my hand and for the first time in months leads me out of my room.

He walks me down the spiraling stairs, Out the door and into the yard Leading me down a crooked path, Walking forward I begin to notice rays of sunlight peeking through the canopy of trees, I'd forgotten what the sun felt like in my skin, I scoff rolling my eyes at the irony, The sun I used to despise now gave me some form of comfort.

And then I see a garden. A quite pathetic garden, Its plants are either dead or dying, It is all covered in debris I look up at him With a look as to ask "What is this?" With a smile that makes my heart race He pulls me further down.

A worn out bench seems to await our arrival Hands in his he leads me to seat "Open your eyes and you'll see" He whispers into my ears See? What could I see, what should I see? All around me are worn out flowers Dying flora Dying? He called me a rose when I first got here And here I was losing all that made me who I was, Dying.

He places his hands on both sides of my face urging me to look at him His eyes telling me the truth I'd refused to admit Placing a garland of black velvet on my head, It seemed my fate was sealed, I am never leaving.

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The speaker is a prisoner, kept in a room for months by a man who feeds her, cleans her and tells her stories of the outside world. Time has blurred, and she can't tell whether she's awake or dreaming. Her feelings about him are tangled: his voice is an "anchor" that keeps her sane, yet he is also the reason she is there. Her racing heartbeat leaves her unsure whether she feels excitement or fear.

When he finally leads her outdoors, the sunlight comforts her, even though she once despised it. Then she sees a neglected garden of dead and dying plants. She remembers he once called her a rose, and she realizes she is wilting too, losing the person she used to be. The black velvet garland he places on her head feels like a crown for a funeral more than a gift.

The mood is claustrophobic and quietly sinister, moving from numbness to a bleak acceptance that she will never leave.

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