There is a rose that, to me, seems like life Because, though it once was so sublime to the eye, Now the petals are blackened, the texture rough And the folds of happiness are now melancholy And this black rose lying among the emerald grass-- The grass being hope, stepped upon by many-- And this black rose lying under the azure sky-- The sky being the world of dreams, unlimited-- This black rose is life in every respect And it once blushed a deep crimson... The color of love And it once felt so soft and delicate The tenderness of hope And it once had fragile folds of lace The complex insides of a person Now this black rose is trodden on by so many Now this black rose is never looked at anymore Now this black rose is just waiting to decompose And though this rose is dark, and dusty.. It still has a certain inexplicable gentleness That brings tears to the eye Because it lies there, given up... Turned upwards facing the world of dreams only waiting Waiting and dreaming about the day The day when someone will pick it up And carelessly toss it away...oblivious to its significance And it will all be over, and the rose can sigh And it can sink slowly into its world of lost love, lost hope, and lost life
Reason for writing:
I wrote this poem because I was in love and he gave me a single red rose for Valentine's Day. I saved the rose, and recently, when our love had dissolved, I looked at the once ruby rose. It was dusty and blackened. I decided to write a poem about it, because it represented not only the life of the rose itself, but of the love it symbolized, my love for this person which decayed like the rose.
Birth sign: Gemini
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