A Blue Rose


All I asked was a blue rose.

That blue rose never came.

For years I watched you search far and wide for that single blue rose. It took all those before you finally realize that a blue rose is impossible.

I am sorry, my love. I am that blue rose.

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Forever Drafts


I write and write and write,
endlessly through the night.
For with the words I bleed,
my heart I freed.

Papers stained with tears I shed,
papers hidden underneath the bed.

I write and write and write —
endlessly through the night —
stillborn verses and paragraphs,
remaining forever drafts.

Break-up Blues


This is what happens after a break-up.

First comes the overwhelming sense of empowerment. Finally, you are that single woman who needs no man in her life. You are independent. You are unstoppable.

Then, stealthily, loneliness creeps in. You are happy yet there is no one to come home to and tell why. Or you had a crappy day and there is no one to rant on. There is no one to share food with (and hell, food tastes so much better when shared).

Suddenly, you miss his soft hands and purring voice. You miss his scent.

There really is a price for choosing yourself. Is it worth it? I hope it is.