The Way the Rose Dies

“I love

the way the rose

dies,”

 

I told him

 

“deepening red

darkened, crackled petals

a slight downward turn,

bowing.”

 

(I love

the way the rose

dies.)

 

“I love you,”

his words fell

onto my chest

only moments

after

heated spill

of atoms

and

his fear

of death.

 

(I love

the way the rose

dies.)

 

I didn’t know

what

to say

so I pulled

his face

to mine

and kissed him.

 

“You can say it,”

my mouth spoke

my chest

an echoed

thud.

“You can say it.”

 

(just know

I love

the way the rose

dies.)

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