Yellow Rose

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I sat in my room happily.
I stared at the flower in the golden vase.
It was a yellow rose.
I had been gifted this by my boyfriend.

Thinking I loved him I cared for the flower.
The flower was also happy.
The flower didn't represent love,
But she was meant for joy and happiness.

Over a short period of time,
We both noticed something off.
I only loved the gifts,
Not the boy.

Trying to hide it from the flower,
I pretended to be happy while I cared for her.
She wasn't so easily fooled,
And she soon began to wilt.

She was saddened by my selfishness.
I paid it no mind.
She wanted to tell the boy,
But I wouldn't let her leave.

She needed to escape,
But I had poisoned her.
She couldn't breathe.
I was suffocating her.

She died and began to rot.
I was angry with the boy.
Her soul left freely,
But she was too scared to even leave.

She watched me through tears.
I didn't know she was there.
I ripped the petals from her body.
I shredded them out of rage.

I threw the body and parts into the garbage.
I did not mourn for her.
I hated her as well.
Yellow roses aren't meant for love.

On the verge of insanity,
I met up with the boy one morning.
I confronted him and broke up.
I laughed crazedly in his face.

He choked back a sob and asked why.
I told him I never loved him.
I said I couldn't love a stranger.
He left without another word.

Had he not broken me,
With that damned yellow rose,
We might've stayed together.
But maybe not.

I now believe the yellow rose played her part.
She kept me happy while she was young.
But she got older and lost her power.
I was fooled by them.

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