That night,
As you walked out of the door and my life,
All that you left behind
Was a note in which you apologized,
And a bunch of roses – my favorite kind.

The roses.
They reminded me of our relationship –
Full of deep, passionate intimacy,
Yet so ephemeral and impermanent
Like the petals, now wilted.

The roses.
They exuded a musky fragrance.
Like the special something we had,
Or so, I used to think, but I was wrong.
For now, that fragrance was long gone.

The roses.
You often compared me with them.
You said I was more alluring,
And they less, but those were all lies,
Like that faded bouquet you left behind.

The roses.
I will never grow to hate them.
I don’t know how, but I will move on,
And the only thing that will remind me
Of you … and us will be their thorns.