Roses

     When I saw you, my heart fluttered with delight, my heart pounded, my lips curving upward into a blushing smile. 
      It felt as if lavender and blue roses her blooming everywhere, like a garden of evening skies.
     My cheeks would look like light pink roses when I blushed for you.
     It felt as if I ran over to my garden of roses to pick one for you, the prettiest one for you, the one that seemed more alive for you, I picked the red one for you out of all the other ones.
     The others were burgundy, light pink, coral, lavender, and blue, and all described what I was going through, but the red one spoke out the loudest.
     It's shape was elegant and full of beauty, representing my heart to you.
     That's what it felt like, but what about now.
     I had the imaginary rose in my mind and hand, I had enough courage to tell him.
     That's when something pricked me multiple times.
      I saw him accepting someone else's rose of mind, and it was killing me.
      I ran back to my garden once full of burgundy, light pink, coral, lavender, and blue roses and one red rose that I picked out.
      But it was all wilted, and in its place were yellow, black, and dried white roses.
      I started to cry clutching onto the red rose I picked, when I realized it was the reason why I felt something prickly.
      Did it always had thorns, either way I tried to throw it in the dead garden, but it clutched on.
      I tried to rip it off of me, but it wouldn't, blood would seep through my skin and the rose's thorns, it just held on.
      It was painful, so I just sat next to the garden of the new colors, plucking at the petals.
      The pain stayed on my arm and hand, but none of the garden or roses were real, but the prickly and clutching pain in my heart was.
       I just felt like a dying garden full of yellow, black, and dried white roses, feeling my happiness fall off like a petal, drifting off into a pool of tears.