Wilting Roses
The night burns bright in your eyes, so dark,
they reflect it back like fire.
I burned all my memories
till there was nothing but ashes,
an entire funeral pyre
disintegrating in the noonday sun,
but your face remains engraved in my cerebrum.
No amount of acid could burn away
the memory of your touch, your kiss.
I am nothing but a sailboat
set adrift upon a stormy sea.
Without you here to tether me,
I am but a shadow, a glimmer of what I once was.
I am wilting roses,
petals floating on summer breezes.
Children gather flowers,
ignoring the blood that streams
as the thorns tear apart their skin,
I am gone.
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