Wrote this some time over the last week when I was bored in school. Wasn't really sure what it was about until I wrote the last verse today. Still not entirely sure if it all fits together.
A single ice-white rose,
petals scattered on the floor.
A dirty footprint stamped on the scene,
and frozen tears.
A smashed picture:
His face, torn cleanly out.
Red blood
scattered on the drops of glass.
A rusty knife
dug deep into the table;
deep etches mark out
scars from previous fights.
A lipstick-stained letter,
faded through time,
and smelling faintly
of a masculine perfume.
Nail varnish,
spilled and smudged.
Left in a hurry
and quickly forgotten.
The remnants of a string of pearls;
loose beads stained with age
have been broken and scattered
across the blood red velvet tablecloth.
Pictures and memories.
All of them
from those last few precious days
before it ended.
Also I'm not sure if reader comments are working, but I know that anonymous comments are, so if anyone wants to leave a comment feel free...
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