Each petals of the rose that I've planted for you,cried out your name.
Just like a dead leaf on the ground during a windy afternoon in autumn,
they fell down one after the other.
to keep the memories you left alive,
I held the withered petals in my hands.
holding them so tight,desperately waiting for you to come back.
Alas,you were gone forever.
YOU ARE READING
The bleeding rose.
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry and prose.I write for those who were left in destitute,those whose scars and pain are left unattended. Come with me and explore a journey through words.
