The Rose

He brought me a rose.

It was a single white rose.

I thought it was the loveliest thing I’d ever seen 

Delicate, soft, pure

Then I thought, “What a waste.”

I can’t touch it

I can’t smell it

I can’t care for it

I’d always wanted a rose

A rose from him

But this, this didn’t count.

Because you see, he brought this rose to my grave.

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4 thoughts on “The Rose

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