A Dozen Roses Late

He was the earth to my moon
I revolved around his palms
From the rising of the sun to the embracing of the horizon
Yet it was her door step he left the dozen roses

We survived slitting wrists
We laughed when society thought she had us figured out
Yet it was her arms he left the dozen roses

How cruel it is to awaken a love and leave
Was I never good enough?
Was I not worthy of roses?

As the wood sounded in the earth
I heard the thudding of stems
Maybe lifeless as I am
Is the contrast of my worthiness of your dozen roses

By Bschapau

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One thought on “A Dozen Roses Late

  1. Thank you for appreciating my writing. The line “Maybe lifeless as I am is the contrast of my worthiness of your dozen roses” I was implying that maybe at my death is when I get to receive the dozen roses because when I was alive you never bothered to give me the affection I gave you. I guess my death is the difference between me and the others when it makes me worthy enough to receive your dozen roses. Yeah, I hope I explained it clearly, still learning this art of poetry.

    Liked by 1 person

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