Held his rose in the palm of my hands.
Was wondering if each color he understands.
Every petal that I plucked, symbolizes 'he loves me, loves me not."
So I ended up with he loves me.
But if that's the case, why are we still free.
So I wrote it all in my book,
The one that smelled like the Rose's that I took.
Laughed it all off in my head.
Spread the petals on my bed.
He may not be here anymore with me.
But someday he will love me again, watch and see.
Now I know things could have been different for us.
If only the way we loved could have been enough.
We shelter our dreams, to just believe.
We bury our nightmares, just to sleep.
What had come with us,
If only we still believed in love.
©terrylin53
T