Flowers

This is from a prompt writing class back in 2006 (you're given a "prompt", a sentence, poem, picture, etc. and fifteen minutes to write- no editing). As Nancy says in class - no criticism, you can only say what you like about the piece. After all it's been written in only fifteen minutes.
The prompt was "Giving/Receiving Flowers".
***********************************************************************

Who made up the rule to give flowers when someone dies? Is it from the past, when flowers masked the smell of death, of decay? Flowers are happy and bright. They don't go with death, sadness, tears, the unforgivable loss.

I can't remember getting flowers from boyfriends or husbands. I give them to myself, although it seems a frivolous expense for something so short-lived.

Tulips I love the best. They're like two flowers in one - first closed primly in their stark sleekness, then opening to reveal their inner hearts.
There's something slightly whorish about an open tulip.
Disheveled, one petal almost off - like a slip strap sliding from a shoulder, hair mussed and sleepy eyed. Ready to give themselves for beauty, for love.