deepundergroundpoetry.com
His favorite Flower
He likes to cut roses from the most beautiful gardens.
He loves the smell of roses.
He likes to smile at them as they seep from the cut but he promises to care for them.
He likes to put them in a vase full of fresh water by the window where the sunlight shines through onto the his bedroom walls.
But then he closes the curtains so no sun ever touches the rose again.
And he lets the water sit for weeks until it goes bad.
He likes to watch the flower die.
He likes to see as the days go by and the rose can't stand on it own anymore.
He likes to see it as it dries up and crumbles at his touch.
He likes to hurt.
He loves the smell of roses.
He likes to smile at them as they seep from the cut but he promises to care for them.
He likes to put them in a vase full of fresh water by the window where the sunlight shines through onto the his bedroom walls.
But then he closes the curtains so no sun ever touches the rose again.
And he lets the water sit for weeks until it goes bad.
He likes to watch the flower die.
He likes to see as the days go by and the rose can't stand on it own anymore.
He likes to see it as it dries up and crumbles at his touch.
He likes to hurt.
Published 15th Jan 2017
| Edited 2nd May 2017
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16th Jan 2017 5:23am
23rd Jan 2017 10:59pm
i love this, so many people have this displeasure of being a rose, used and taken for granted of its beauty
