the cold rose

The Cold Rose

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I sit here alone in my dark soon on my bed in silence, listening to the winds or change pass my window, I wonder what could have been. I’ve lost my last bit of sanity. She left me with a solemn farewell. I am feeling as if I am slowly drifting into a state of mind where I have lost touch with all reality. I am in a depression of pain and suffering as my soul slowly withers away. I am in dyer need or help, but no one will help stop the torture…..No one knows what it’s like to always seem happy on the outside, but slowly dying on the inside. Even as I write this my thoughts are slowly drifting away. My soul is following.

Her name was Amber. We were together for 3 years, since we were fourteen years old. She was different from other girls, she was one of the few that understood me. I long for the love and passion that we use to have for each other. We had many good times, in yet, we had endured hardship. I would give anything, do anything, be anything, if I could just have her back.

We met in the last year of middle school, eighth grade. She moved to my town halfway through the year, so she was new and lost and alone there. We took her into our group. I had liked her from first start and that didn’t change. And once she was settled enough and I was brave enough, I gathered the courage to tell her how I felt. She had liked me too, that was over with and done. We spent much time together and soon after in front of her house we had our first kiss together. We were just always together, never apart. Whether it was at her house, my house, wooded areas, or even just in school, we didn’t want to be apart. Everything was fine. We went to parties and on dates quite often. We exchanged gifts every once in a while too, just because.

Everyone would tell me though, “What’s is special about her? You can do way better.” I would always just tell them, “Maybe I can, but I’m not going to. She is the only one to ever try to understand me, and I owe her everything for that, I truly do.” I spoke that many times, to friend and foe, but I was still ridiculed and hated for being with her for sometime. Everyone was afraid of me because of how different I am from them. How I think and how I acted. That scared them to the point of frustration to where they ridiculed my friends, family, and me.

I remember one day when we were together in her house and she was sitting on the other end of the couch alone in her house. We slowly scooted in till we were side by side. I put my arm up and around her. I would always hold her tight, so she would know that someone did care. I was very protective of her, I didn’t want to see her hurt in anyway like she had been so much before. Those times were all over as long as she was with me. I loved her very much and the feeling was good.

Now I don’t think anyone will be able to fill the hole in my heart. I miss the feeling. Now for her sixteenth birthday, I got her a rare and beautiful rose. It was called a cold rose. It was an ice blue color with white tipped petals that resembled frost. I wrote a note with it that said: “this rose is rare, beautiful, and gentle. And it reminds me of my bay girl. I love you.” She loved it.

We vowed to never be apart. But now vows and promises mean nothing. Only lies are what I remember. The things I found that she did to me after all…after all I had thought she was she truly wasn’t after all…then we planted the rose into a garden area in the back of her house. Within a few weeks it had managed to sprout and grow into a whole bush of cold roses.

Winter came and we kept each other warm by cuddling in the living room in front of a fire. We could see the bush out the window, and it was literally our love, it thrived and we thrived. We were safe from the cold harsh winds of winter and the darkening depths of the snow as the night came to us. But we didn’t care, we felt safe in each other’s arms.

True love was held by unbreakable glass, but the glass was finally broken at the drop of the pin. And the shards that fell cut us like razors. Our love died when the truths of her came out and no longer could we bear to live that way. We had our final happy time on her next birthday. We had our own private party for just us. I hated some of the things we tried, but I felt safe and trusted to do these things with her.

The cold rose bush died when we died. We ended up breaking apart and the day after we did, the bush died. The bush was our love. From beauty all the way to wilted ashes we and the bush went. But now that she is gone and I have told my story, maybe, just maybe, I can be happy once more. I have to have happy to be happy. Sooner or later I will be again. For now I will suffer with the pain of my tortured soul. I’ll have faith and know it will come back. One day, soon, one day…..