I remember when I first saw you, not even all the brushes in the world could paint how beautiful you looked.
Your smile shined in the dark velvet night as your eyes scanned the room. It wasn't until you looked at me when I hoped the sound of my heart wasn't loud enough to bounce off of the walls. I held my breath in fear and shut my eyes in hope because maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't go away.
It wasn't until two years later when I asked you if you loved me, that you hesitated.
You kept your mouth shut because you knew if you opened it all those pretty lies would spill out.
While I waited for you to answer, I picked the petals of paper white roses. You stood there and watched until the last petal fell slowly to the ground. I looked up at you and you looked back at me, and we let our eyes do the talking.
While silence invaded the room, a tear slowly slipped out of my eye. You took that as your cue to leave.
I watched your back until it was out of sight. I remember the number of roses that died that day and the number of sobs that escaped my throat. Yet, I wasn't suprised.
Because in your hesitation, I found the answer.
a/n: so how are you feeling today?
