Farewell, Dear Pumpkin

155 days. That’s how long you lasted.
You should be pleased with yourself, Pumpkin.

When I peeked on Wednesday, you were round and proud.
I whispered to you about our big plans for Sunday.

Collapsed in on yourself, is how I found you.
Your guts leaking out for me to see.

It was selfish of me to assume I could decide your fate.
Proclamations of destiny and slippery procrastination don’t go hand in hand.

I understand now. I do.
Your idea of soup is different from mine.

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