Broken Hands

How I felt as I held a rose

I held a rose in my hand
And marveled at a beauty
I would never understand
And in my palms
This rose quietly sat
And gently stared back
As if I were as lovely as she
Subtly I laughed then
Closed my hand and
Felt the rose die
With my broken palms
I extinguished her life
For I knew that a rose
As beautiful as she
Could never love one
As ugly as me