For My Dieing Rose This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

February 28, 2010
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Our bodies stand in incomplete symmetry
contemplating snowflakes that were never supposed to fall
on silent graves where we forgot to bury our hearts

If I could drink time from the faded color of your eyes,
I’d probably choke on the guilt I left you to swallow.
We were immortal innocence with at thirst for confusion,
and everyone knows that chaos will always be the sweetest form of beautiful.

I held a delicate flower between the creases of my fingerprints,
Oh God!
How I made it crumble,
gently pulling back petals to preserve something brighter
and now it’s falling apart as some foreign part of me begins to unravel too.

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