The Fatal Blue Rose

The aroma of the sweet smelling
blue bird rose
the soft texture of its petals
the prick of the thorm
on the fourteenth of Feburary
my brightened smile as I pretended
the sting didn't harm my thumb
your laugh; so light but filled the
thickly chemistried air
and when our lips pressed together
for the very first time
it was like fireworks that burned
through the starry night of July 4th;
amazing; no...exciting
the look in your eyes
the sparkling light shimmered in it
it was love; no doubt it was...

unfortunately, it WAS

the light; the kiss
the beautiful blue rose on Valentine's Day
wouldn't stand up tothe absenses
of honesty and loyalty
now, it went from

"I love you." to

"leave me alone."

funny how love turns into goodbyes
and the laughs turns into cries