We walked on separate sides of the streets 

we pass each other and share a glimpse, 

My bright smile slips

and yours not too far behind to follow.

You slowly pull yourself closer to me 

we never seemed to disagree.

Appearance of a beautiful rose bush, 

in a gated, white, picket fence. 

But dig deep enough at your expense. 

Inside that rose bush is something tense.

darkness, harshness, sharpness is what I see,

as the situation between you and me. 

Uncovering the roots, 

there is no use. 

Like rustic barbed wire,

harmful and sometimes painless

Who knew you wanted to leave me by the hour?

Now that you're gone,

dead flowers are what I look upon.