Of dead flowers and chocolate!

What are those words for that are whispered into dried flowers, carrying memories of a troubled past?
She keeps whispering those words.
As if the person who got her those flowers once had not already left a long while ago.
Such a long while that the leaves are a faded yellow.
One that died ages ago but still needs time to decay for good.
She whispers those words against the sound which the shards in her bag are making.
The last two plates of her dead grandmother are inside of it,
because shards are pretty and sometimes sound nice.
In her bag, she also carries the last chocolate the flower person had ever given her.
Dried as well by now, and crumbling.
What are those words to be whispered with dead flowers on those lips and beloved shards in the bag?
Words from the past?
Words for a love that could have been?
For a heart that was breaking?
Words for chocolate and shards.
For shards and wine. Whispered through dead flowers.
That is what poetry is for.