I am the vase that sits on your windowsill.

Empty and forgotten, I wait. I wait for you to come fill me, to pour yourself into me, to top off my nothingness with whatever you please. I spend lonely days and lonelier nights wishing you would decorate me. Embellish me with a posy of wildflowers arranged in perfect disarray. Fill me to the brim with voluptuous blood-red roses whose prickly tails poke and prod my sides. Give me daisies or tulips or lilies. Garnish me with any flower, just decorate me. Fill me. Complete me.

The End

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