The Rose

Red, sweetly scented

Delicate velvet petals

Curled elegantly in perfection, precision in every curve and fold

The sight of unblemished superiority

A simple royalty of all flowers, stunningly gorgeous

Its sharp thorn pricks my finger

The blood oozes slowly from the stinging wound

Drip, Drip

Deep red as the flower itself

Deeper, deeper

I feel myself getting weaker and weaker

A petal falls soundlessly to the floor

Water drops caress its waxy skin

Another petal falls beside me

Soon now it’ll be over

Sweet solemnity, me and my rose

I begin to feel at ease, knowing it’s almost my time

Day after day, the rose wilts

Day after day, I die along with it

It’s time is near

The blood-red petals now brown

Deep scent replaced by rot and stench

Soon, the head of the rose falls completely

My pulse slows, I see the pool of blood underneath me

The time is here

I watch them weep

I watch them see

I watch them toss a rose into the 6-foot hole

One shovel full of dark dirt at a time

Darker, and darker

Until there’s nothing left to see

I watch them leave, destined to forget

The time has come

In which I must say goodbye