The Rose that Never Bloomed.

She sits alone by a window
Surrounded by shades of pink
She stands above a raging sea
Toppling on the brink

Photographs of black and white
Haunt her in her dreams
An empty bassinet greets her
As she wakes herself with screams

A river of coagulated blood
Satin white sheets soaked red
Why did my rose wither?
Nobody said.

Tiny little shoes
Laces forever remain untied
She thinks about lost smiles
Of the rose she held inside

Eyes that will never open
Behind a soft curtain of skin
One life created
That will never break from within

Rooms remain empty
Silence grows stagnant and old
A teddy lays forgotten
Its fur overgrown with mold

She whispers goodbye
And closes the door to the room
Of the withered rose
That never had a chance to bloom.