The last rose that you gave me died two weeks ago,
I think.
I remember watching as the final, wilted petal fell
And wondering if this was the end.
So, I tossed out all of the dirty water and threw away the stem
And wished that roses never died.
But, I guess it’s a stupid thought to think it possible
To build our love upon things as fragile as roses.
Maybe it was stupid to think that we could construct
Love upon ourselves, just as fragile as that rose.
Young, naïve, broken, innocent
We fell in love hard.
But our petals were too weak and our thorns kept getting tangled
And somewhere along the way we forgot to water ourselves.
When things ended I crashed and time passed in a blur,
Waking in a cold sweat, unable to pick myself up of the
Bathroom floor,
Wishing that all of my petals would fall to the tiles
And that I too, could be thrown out like the
stem.