a single rose could speak.
of the ones that were held between us,
they listened to what we were saying:
they were not a testament of a love,
but maybe they witnessed a beginning...
if a single rose could speak,
from that withering, lonely bouquet,
it would say that
sometimes the breath of the girl that held them
was caught in the petals,
that the thoughts of the boy
were wrapped around the stems,
that the unsaid couple
was trying to trace their start,
that their start began at the end,
that one day, they will reach the finish line,
at the start of that December night,
a year and 2 months ago.