The rose petals fell from my fingertips;
they were the color of ruby, like his lips.
No matter how much I asked—
I could never finish the simple task.
The littered grass of petals,
mocked me as more fell.
The half picked rose slipped from my hand.
It laid there with other empty stems.
I locked the gates behind the roses
To leave this unwinnable game of chess.
Even if heartbeats he brought—
He likes me not.
YOU ARE READING
Roses and Candles
PoesíaThe letters written for my first. An encounter from a dream that could've been more but never progressed far enough to be a happy ending; A collection of scenes, not enough to create a movie, that's settled in the depths of my beating heart; A stri...
