You wouldn't have known
that the rose had bloomed
and yes, so passionately
and fierce and aggressive
when the night arose from it's slumber
and
you wouldn't have known
that when the clock chimed ten
spirits of the wind dropped by
greeted the flower
and shook him gently by the stem
with the utmost politeness and all
but when they left
he was slightly to the right
and
you wouldn't have known
that when the stars were staring down
at you in bed dreaming about them
he shed off a piece of himself
which had bled and dried up a dark crimson red
and it had stained the other pieces
and
you wouldn't have known
that sometime when the stars got tired
and decided to turn in
and decided to cover themselves
in blankets of clouds
it rained just like that
and pelted on him the rain did
like cannon balls and missiles
they shook him badly
and they took him down
and
you wouldn't have known
that after that heavy rain
when the dusk was creeping in behind the mountains
a morning breeze came by
and wept across the rose
caressing the now limp and almost dead
and when she left
he fell off his stem, beheaded
off the fifteenth floor
and
you wouldn't have known
because you wouldn't have seen
a rose, withered and dead
it's core still a tiny speck of bloody red
waltzing outside your balcony
because you were looking elsewhere
so how would you have known?
this is very well written. I appreciate it, and the idea of not knowing because we arn't looking seems to sum up rather well how each goes on doing their own thing and not paying attention to those around 'em.
ReplyDeletePeace.
hahaha. quite an interpretation you got there! thank you anyway. =)
ReplyDelete