A dozen roses
Sitting innocently in a crusted vase.
Petals long since dead
Dried
But holding on.
You’d barely be able to notice that they were red once.
Alive.
That they found their way to me out of love
And a gentleness that I’ve not seen in years.
They should have been discarded long ago, but I cling to them.
As if to make a statement…
As if to remind myself…
You loved me once.
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