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The roses in my window still haunt me
Like mocking sentinals
They clumsily keep watch
Over my emotions
Guarding my only sanity
Exploiting my only madness
The curling fringe of despair builds
And what can I do
But look at them?
They laugh silently
"What did you expect?"
A careless whisper in the dark,
The fingers of fate play with
A loose tendril of my hair
"It's out time now, Babe;
Don't worry, we'll be gentle."
i set the roses you sent me to dry today, love.
they hang upside down in a row, all 12 standing at lazy attention, halfheartedly.

they were beautiful, my love. bloodred and perfect.
but you went away, and they died.

they wilted with your absence, much as i do.

they will dry, of course. and still remain. but they'll never LIVE again.
their beauty will be frozen in time.

i save them, and try to remember as they dry.
from today, one rose a day till you return.
i count them slowly, praying they will vanish.
but they all still sit and sway. all still remain.

but i keep them, no longer blooming as they be...

as a reminder

that you'll soon return

and from that reunion we never need part more.

and with your arms and kiss returned,

with you brought back to me,

roses will bloom again.

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