He liked red tulips, I preferred the charm of pink roses.
Though a roses adoration seemed to last longer, than the claim of "never-ending love" of a tulip.
The red began to fade, leaves and petals began to shrivel
wither,
and curl in on themselves.
Whilst the rose drank in every mornings dew, bursting with thorn and a heavy fragrance that filled the summer air with a sense of longing.
I wonder if you noticed.
That I am not talking about flowers..
I am talking about us.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
He liked red tulips, I preferred the charm of pink roses.
Though a roses adoration seemed to last longer, than the claim of "never-ending love" of a tulip.
The red began to fade, leaves and petals began to shrivel
wither,
and curl in on themselves.
Whilst the rose drank in every mornings dew, bursting with thorn and a heavy fragrance that filled the summer air with a sense of longing.
I wonder if you noticed.
That I am not talking about flowers..
I am talking about us.
