My dear, what life you bring to a world so deterred with death. When shadows lick at the curtains and tease my toes you splash color into this room with breathless vibrance. You've become a survivor after I've killed so many others; you've yet to wilt or dare leave me. I hope you've made roots here, and consider this home a place you can grow. I know I'm a torturous host, denying you water and locking you within these walls, but I know what's best. Sunlight won't nutrify you nearly as much as my company. So survive, little houseplant.
You're the last of your kind here.
[Prompt: Tell a houseplant why it needs to live.]
© 2014 | Jazelle Handoush
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