The Rose is Dead

A poem in my time of emo-ness after my first love of a year and a half left me for my best friend.

The Rose is Dead

Lulu Forshage

The Rose begins to wither.

The skies grow dark.

You, my lost love with her-

My best friend.

The Rose petals drop-one by one.

The skies thunder angrily.

You, my lost love is having plenty of fun with her

My friend.

The Rose finally gives in, dropping to the ground.

The skies let out a bone-chilling rain.

You, my lost love is too busy to notice that she-

The enemy of me, was once my best friend.

The Rose is Dead.

The skies-Blackened with rain of despair.

You, my lost love-are in love with her.

Now known as my hate.

...Is that Rain?...

 

...Or My-Tears and blood?...

Reviews

[Vartul]

Hmmm.The Rose part is beautiful.I'm now going to hurt your emotions rather badly,but i have to say this.I've myself tried many a times to express my feelings in my pieces, but none of those pieces was appreciated.The lines in which you express the despair of being left don't arouse the same feelings in the readers.To win their appreciation, the feelings must rise from personal to universal.I would suggest you go through "A Hot Noon in Malabar" by Kamala Das to understand this better.
Nevertheless, its a good piece. :)