I met a girl once,




cutting roses and folding them
like paper to keep in her pocket.
And I watched her while she did,
wondering what would she do with the flowers later.


And she looked at me,
while she folded the last blood red rose...



And smiled.



And pressed her hands to my cheeks,
imprinting the color of the roses,
and only then did I noticed she was bleeding.

Crying rivulets of roses from deep beneath her skin.



And I knew then, that she was sad,
and that the smile on her face was only a lie.

And she pressed her little hands to my face once more,
and touched my lips, and closed my eyes.

When she saw the wonder in my face,
her lips parted...

and spilled her flowers in a spray across me.
And cried while flowers, tiny beaded diamonds of red promises
spilt from her mouth.





&







I remembered her face, from years ago.
She used to grab my hand and tug me towards the patches of white roses.
 
&

As I lay her in an embrace,
the last rose she'd folded fell from her dress.
 
She'd written on it with her tears.

"I never knew your love.

 But with this rose,












 I'll have you folded close to my heart."





I smiled and touched her heart.
Because I knew,




 I never really liked girls.

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