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Sunday, February 1, 2009

The Red Rose

The last time I saw the red rose the pain was unbearable
Like a knife twisting in my sides, eating at my soul

I knew someday the pain would depart
That, at times, was the most painful part

In a perverse way, the pain made me feel alive
When it went away, some of myself wouldn't survive

Space and time now separated me from the rose
Memories, dreams and hypotheticals take me from smiles to sorrows

I still wonder if I could have the rose in my possession
Sometimes I smile, sometimes I'm sad, that with the rose I only had a session

Whatever I feel or felt, one thing is for sure
When in the presence of the rose, never have I felt so alive and so pure

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