I share my blood with my cactus whenever I bleed.

A simple scratch on the knee

A papercut between the fingers

It feels only right to share what’s mine with the cactus that was with me from the beginning of my time.

These days, I’ve been feeding my cactus more frequently

Once every two days,

Sometimes twice in a day

I wonder if it will starve once they decide to keep the needle in me.

Last month, the single bud on the tip of the cactus decided to bloom

Saturated with the blood it had stored

Dripping with an aroma, too sweet

My cactus had decided to share its death day with mine.