You bought me two bouquets of wilted roses.
You handed them to me with that smirk on your face.
You know, the one you used to give me before you laid
your hands on me. I seen beauty in them. In fact, I had our future
in my hands.
A dozen reasons why I loved you
and a dozen reasons why we could never be.
All wrapped together by the man who abused me.
You see,
I did not throw them away.
I did not rip them apart.
Instead, I laid them to rest.
Which then
Soothed the pain from my breaking heart.
Sara I. Raad