An Instagram Influencer Reincarnated as a Corpse Flower

Of course you came back like this— in the form of something safe from direct touch by gloves. Before, you were shielded from my hungry gaze by a screen only receptive to a scroll and double tap. But now, there is no smooth burnt-honey skin. There is no scent like flirty tulips drowned in wine. And you are not clothed in advertisement. Now they call you monsterand measure you and would uproot you if you were not a wonder. “It smells dead already. How could humankind not be beguiled by you who steals water from throats to sustain such a short life?