It starts its life as a paradox,
Eternal love,
Unfulfilled love,
The meaning of the purple rose.
Many times it feels that way,
So close yet so far to the touch,
Remembering the irony of my first true love,
It goes on until the end.
Eternal love,
Unfulfilled love,
Can it truly exist?
Is it a blessing or a curse?
Or one which should not exist?
Purple rose,
Yellow rose,
What do I want?
Somewhere there exists the answer,
In the depths of my soul.
YOU ARE READING
Whispers of the Mind
PoetryLocked up inside, the mind speaks to you. Sometimes, it tells you of your past wishes, sometimes it becomes the cause of your spirals, and even more times, it allows you to dream. What a wonderful place this world could be if everyone achieved their...
