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My Rose
November 20, 2017
Ask me what I saw
I saw her blood drop
Drop, not flow
Slowly, daintily making its way
To the harsh pavement
The harsh truth.
Beads of water, sweat
Those don’t drop
They seem frozen in time
Still glistening
Waiting for something
Someone
To break them
Away from a timeless curse.
Her beauty crumbling
Falling apart slowly
Time has stopped for her,
It’s bowing down to her
Her arms shrink into herself
The last drop falls
A startling red
The image focuses.
A flower
A rose
Has lost its last breath
Don’t ask me what I saw.
© Taylor S., Deltona, FL
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I was at summer camp when one o fmy friends told me about the suicide one of his friends committed. I was shocked to say the least, and I thought about how hard it must have been to tell me that. So I wrote this, to show the loss we all feel when someone dies. And how closed off we are when it happens.