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Vareesha Khan, 09 Oct '12

Rose;

I sat next to the moon on our nightly adventures, but it shone like nothing. I connected the stars under the darkly skies, but they never made sense like you did. And the sun, don’t even get me started on the sun. It is too bright, it tries too hard, it has a superior God complex. But you, not you, you put on a blond wig and you’re Goldilocks, the one who shines just right. You’re the rose without thorns, the blanket that’s still warm. You stood on the balcony as I told you that a rose by any other name would be just as sweet, but looking back, it means nothing to me. You bleed in your suicide, and I wish I drank that poison whole. I was a guy in the middle of a war but I gave it all up in my battle for you. I repeated all my words and I fumbled in my chant. The light went out, the sky blacked out. You were gone, I was gone. The stars, the moon, the sun, none of them forgave me for my preference, but they were too bright, they weren’t bright enough. They played games with revenge, and as I placed you, petals on your eyes, into the ivy coffin, I regretted my mistakes, I found myself a stake. They won’t mark this as a suicide, but the story of love, the story of tragic love. I held my heart too close to perfection, and I discovered all its thorns as I fell through the night.

Comments · 1

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  • Jean Woest said...

    Wow. Great imagery. Really love all the literary references.

    • Posted 9 years ago