There stood you

With a boquoet of white rose;

The roses as pure as snow

And you baffling with the thoghts to shove.

In a cascade of attempts,

You still failed to say,

I waited and again

You were unable to make a way.

On the final run,

You kissed the roses and looked in the eye

I got baffled,

And reflected with a sigh.

Maybe you didn’t love me

Or were shy enough to confess

maybe I was blind to differ

the blue roses over white mess.

But in a moment of awe,

You returned in a breathless attire.

My skin barren

but rushed with a wild desire.

You were in me

and I was in you

You enriched my finger

And I was astounded without any clue.

Our love was like a rose,

Coloured under red hot sun.

Somedays, you pricked me wildly

Other days you caressed me like a bud;

All in the end,it was us as one.

Few days reached few months

The warmth was still like the flamimg sun.

And a day before the anniversary

You said we will stay this forever hun!

Unfortunately, You met your destiny so young

The real destiny of life.

Im left with two parts of you,

The baby and the web of your lies.

In the world of mortals

You promised to give me forever.

How naïve I could be,

Believing the words without any measure.

Whispering through the wind,

A petal as dark as blood

Kissed the earth and forever

Held the spirit sunk in the shallow mud.

I looked at you but you didn’t

I held the the roses but you could not.

Thorns still resemble a life,

But a fallen petal does not.

Living a life

In black and white

Looking for just

A hint of color

I found the beauty

I craved

In the petals of a rose

I admired her

Slowly drifting closer

I went to pick

The only thing of beauty

And hesitated

For just a second

And if only I'd

Thought just a little longer

For I fell

And the thorns of the rosebush

They ripped me to shreds

The only color left

Was that of my blood

But even that faded

Until I was no longer

Living in a black

And white world

For my tears

Clouded my eyes

Far too much to see

#rose #poetry #pain #love #color

Moving into our first (and potentially last) house held so much meaning and promise, with so many emotions running through me, that I barely paid attention to them at first.

Four tall, spiney bushes all in a row. Surrounded by decorative rocks in an otherwise drought-resistant yard with no grass or other vegetation save the ash tree in the front. One red, two yellow, one white.

Roses.

Ick.

The owner had been an older woman, retiring to move into a smaller place that required less upkeep. We could see why - the sixty year old house needed a lot of work, despite all the care put into preserving it - and when you're that age nobody wants to tend a corner lot. The layout of the rose bushes, with their little terracotta rings underneath, felt very grandmotherly to us.

Originally we had viewed the all rock & mulch landscape as a good thing, because being a working couple neither of us wanted to spend much time outside mowing grass. We also felt no need to water, prune, or tend to any foliage.

So I made a deal with the roses - if they could live on their own, they could stay.

Since the previous owner left instructions / sprinkler systems behind I presumed she had kept the roses up with persistent hydration; I figured once they died we'd just rip them out and put in some real plants with character, like cacti.

I like cacti. They're just straight up prickly. They don't put on a pretty face and then stab you. They say "Hey - back off, buddy" right to your face. $!@% roses and their pretentious "Ooh, I'm pretty but don't touch" thorny crap.

The months went by. No water. No changes. Then the months turned into years, at least three with a drought. Still no water. Still no changes.

The dang things just wouldn't die.

I stared at them one spring as we started trimming them down, since they'd actually thrived somehow without a regular water schedule. The red, yellow and white colors seemed tacky. The petals came off way too easily. The thorns still sucked. I frowned and wondered how long I'd have to wait for my cacti dreams.

Then one V-Day my coworker received a box of roses from her soon-to-be-ex husband. She snubbed them, because they were slightly wilted in the box / crystal vase. The fact that they probably cost a quarter of his weekly paycheck, or that they were long-stemmed and hand delivered with fancy cards and ribbons, didn't matter one bit. The roses failed to buy her love, or save her marriage after she ended up with the head of sales.

That same morning my partner took one of my coffee mugs out and filled it with roses from the yard. They weren't long stemmed and sexy but big and bloomy - like old lady flowers are meant to be. They lasted maybe a whole day before falling apart into a little pile of petals. Somehow, they seemed the perfect gift though - a simple testament to our home owner dream we'd built together.

I started to like the roses. Maybe. A little.

Then after many years and renovations my partner remarked, "Well, I guess they're not dying. How about we pull them anyway and put some shade or fruit trees in?"

I nodded, but felt troubled. The roses had survived without any help - that was the deal. They had proven they could make it. Did I really want them to forsake them now?

Yeah, they didn't really match the new motif for the yard we were going for. We'd remulched, repaved, replanted everything else. The olive tree had been replaced with a fruitless cherry tree that didn't leave any little pits on the ground. The strange shrubs in the front yard had all been removed. The ash tree had been pruned back away from the roof. The roses were the last of the old guard, standing along the sidewalk like prickley old ladies in line for tea.

Life got busy and plans got postponed. At the moment, we're still working out what to save up and fix next; more yardwork isn't really at the top of the list. The roses may last a few more years, or at least until the itch to hit up the local nursery kicks in.

Maybe one day they'll get uprooted. I'd prefer to sell them to a good home. I'm sure they could survive the transfer, and given how heartlessly they've been ignored perhaps a new home would be best for them.

Someplace with a little old lady that appreciates them.

.........

Or I could try to talk my partner into redoing the entire side yard into an Alice in Wonderland theme and get them to stay...

But either way I guess...

They grow on you.

I rub your stem into my fingers

Watch as blood trickles from the tips

They say you must suffer to be beautiful

Must I suffer from your thorns?

Or should I let go?

And trim your painful beliefs from my life

A healthy rose bush is a pleasing sight.

What if the rose bush stands out as the most beautiful of the garden?

Will the other flowers be upset? Some will.

So the jealous daisys ask, "What do you eat? How do you

keep flourishing in the summer days? How so you stay so elegant?"

The rose will answer. If the daisys try to sabotage the rose,

it's God given thorns will make them bleed.

The animals will be drawn to the rose and

eat the daisys as they approach the roses.

So don't covet the rose's success, rather enjoy the rose.

Keep your blood on the inside.