last year’s rose
she caught me
with my head in my hands
covering my face
on the verge of tears
she caught me red-handed
and she asked me, are you all right?
i told her that i was fine
it was just an itch, i said
my forehead burned from too much sun
i had enough
bad lies to get by
but what was i going to really tell her?
how broken i felt?
how desolate and scared and alone?
that i no longer knew how to help
you or me or anyone
or how just before she came in
i’d found the rose that you sent me last year
on our ninth anniversary
dried and peeling in my drawer
but still smelling almost as sweet
as the day that it arrived
from your heart to mine.
06.24.14
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