I grew up believing in roses as the flower of love
I read that any other name would be as true
But I wouldn’t know
I never knew the truth
I only knew loving whoever she was
I grew familiar with different types of blooms
For every time she cheated
I’ve find a bouquet in my room
I can still see her walking down my driveway
At god knows what hour
Sunflowers in hand
I’d say to myself
‘What has she done now?’
And then they’d haunt me in my room
Over their yellow heads
The black truth would loom
They’d die within a day or two
They knew it too
They say the other woman is the one who falls asleep
With roses at her feet
But how could that be me?
I was the one in the relationship
But the other, nonetheless
And the roses made a bed
At a certain point
She discovered that she had bought me so many bouquets
That it became a drain
So she bought me plastic flowers
That sat and stared
“She’s getting lazy with the lies now”
They’d say as they met with my wilting eyes
And as she grew lazier with each lie
There it was in black and white
“We’ll find each other again, I promise”
She had sent to an old girlfriend
“We’ll be friends again at the least”
Even the the plastic lilies grew tears
Last Wednesday I bought myself pink lilies
I’ve always detested them
A painful substitute for their snowy cousin
But they’re the only flower that hasn’t watched me in tears
They see me at my best
I protect them from the rest
As the other bunches tried to protect me
I lie in a bed of wilted roses
What would it make me if I let them grow back?
Would that mean love conquers all?
Even self respect?
Oh ring a ring a rosies
My lady with a pocket of posies
Five peonies for crying
Six lilies for lying
We both fall down
Author bio:
Nancy is a Law and Arts conjoint student from Scotland, majoring in Gender Studies and Criminology. Being creative with words has always been a love of theirs. They’ve been writing poetry since they were eight years old and continue to do so… when they get a break from law school cases!