A Rose

After three years of living in a garden
One year of sitting at a table with a vase of lilies center stage
I have revisited a rose petal in the night sitting in the spotlight of the moon

No longer satisfying as it once was, I peeled at it ever so slowly.
... She loves me... She loves me not...
All until my eyes were stricken by a fresh new layer of life. Soft and vibrant.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
My head threw back and my fists clasped ever so tightly around the toxic green stem.
The thorns tore through my fingers releasing streams of blood that trickled through the cracks of my fists.
Slowly tracing my veins, the blood ran all the way down my wrists and forearms eventually making it's way to my elbows.
It collected and pooled until a single drop flew free.
A silent scream all the way to the ground where it then echoed a tiny "drip" as a faucet does when it counts the hours at night.
Still with my face to the heavens, I slowly opened my eyes.
My lips parted ever so slightly and I sat in silence.
It was only a matter of time before a hungry cry would crawl out from my diaphragm and ride the wind of my lungs.
Like an instinctive lioness fending for it's bone struck cub, that cry dashed out of the cave, scraped my teeth, and dispersed into the sky to hunt until it died.
I heaved...
My chest created a tidal wave down my torso
It was then that I entered the home that I needed
I stood there embracing all that I held.
Forgetting that anything else existed.
And finally remembering the beauty that is in holding a single rose.