It is on my desk,
dry, almost petrified, the rose.
Something I did not want or expect…
He gave to me unexpectedly one day.
It pricked my
finger, blood drops trickled.
A mirror of future twice more
my blood fell.
Things I didn’t expect or want.
I told him, “No”.
Later I told him more.
I sat back and hoped he’d go.
Now we are alone.
Heal never know how I cried, why?
I am always his rose;
and that’s all he’ll ever know.
Something I did not except or want;
but now could not live without!! …