A Rose

If I had a rose
It would sit inside a glass
Steeped in the clearest water
But dying, nevertheless
Everyday

Its petals would fall daily
To drift slowly down onto the ground
Their final resting place
Beside the glass
Where their living counterparts
Still reside

Those fallen petals of the rose
Are nothing
But
Little fragments of beauty
Destroyed and broken
Left to gather dust

Day by day my rose would wither
Losing colour, losing blood
And the air, empty of its sweet scent
Weeps for beauty fled with life

Taking with it
The joy it brings
And leaving only
Memories
Of the joy that it once brought

And if I had a rose
I’d kill it before it dies
Like I wish that I could kill love
Before I can have a chance to cry