A forgotten rose in a diary
Lending a yellow tinge to
the crimson words
it lies there forgotten.
Often I have dropped it,
misplaced it or left it behind..
Strangely it turns up
at the same page every single time.
Bookmarking the day
we lit candles for my god,
when I started believing that you
indeed were the One.
Many more pages I scripted
for love and loss,
watered them with my tears.
Yet you remained there
a silent observer...
No...
a voyeur.
I can just see that malice
in your fading petals
that herald the winter of my love.
Or perhaps it is just the scent you
leave behind on the pages
that have become one with you...
Chronicling a love forgotten
just like a forgotten rose in a diary...
--
Anonymous
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