bluebells are blooming
deep within the green meadows and hazy sunlight.
bluebells have bloomed
deep within our hearts entwined
like the two trees of Deirdrui and Naisi.
the soil that blessed bluebells sprout from
stain the skin underneath my fingernails.
you brought me bluebells once-
a fresh bouquet of bluebells every evening-
and i think that they meant something more to you
than they ever did to me,
something you lost once, before you ever gained it.
bluebells are blooming once again
and i'm angry because i keep expecting things,
expecting you to come to me at night
with bluebells in your arms.
i keep hearing your voice
with every warm summer breeze that smells like bluebells.
and oh, god, everytime i smell them
i think of the future we could have had,
the future that can now never be.
they thought i went crazy 
when i gathered together all the old bluebells 
you had once gathered fresh for me
and hung them like a dead animal in a butcher's store.
momento mori.
a remembrance of death
but my remembrance of the life we could've led.
the bluebells, a monument to our love.
the smell of them evaporates anything else in the world
except our love.
i see how we used to be as our ghosts float around this place
blissfully unaware of your future demise,
only knowing the love of bluebells.