you gave me
an orange rose
(red ones
are too cliche)
and i pressed it
between the pages
of my bible
because i thought
it would also
preserve our love
but just like
the rose
it dried up
and turned brown
and crumbled
between my fingers
so i took
the flower dust
and locked it
in the jewelry box
you gave me
for our anniversary
but you
were already
too far gone.
i tried
tracing my finger
along the map,
trying to find you,
even just a glimpse.

i never did find you.

i found
the old jewelry box
you gave me
for our anniversary.
the one with
the crumbled
rose petals.
i opened it up
and watched
your ghost
dance around
my room.
"sorry i never called."
you told me.
"i'm dead."