Pricked my fingers, drew some blood,
Falling to the floor like graceful rain,
Glistening beads of ruby red,
And the slightest, softest gasp of pain
Escapes my crimson tinted lips
As I grasp tighter in my hands
The hundred red roses you sent my way–
Saying you want me to yourself
For a hundred thousand lifetimes,
That it couldn’t be anybody else.
I clutch tighter,
Thorns cutting deeper;
But what’s a little blood lost
Holding on to the thoughts of you?
Wishing my hands were on you instead,
I let the scarlet rain pour,
Staining the floor in heavy red,
Painting a picture so morbidly beautiful,
I can’t help but smile through the pain.
One hundred red roses in my hands,
One hundred red roses on the floor,
And countless reasons to love you more.
I bury my face in the wet petals,
Losing myself to the fragrance–
I was left breathless in your embrace.
In this lifetime and in my next,
And in all the others we shall live,
We’ll pave our roads in red roses,
Finding our way back to each other,
For all the roses in the world could wilt,
Red to black, petals to dust,
But not my love for you–
Like a hundred red roses
In hundred enchanted jars,
We’re forever ’til the end of time,
My heart is in your hands,
And I’m right wherever you are.
~© Shubhangi Srinivasan.
Today’s prompt via napowrimo.net was to incorporate flower symbolism in poetry. And although a red rose is almost synonymous to love in the most clichéd and overused sense, it still happens to be the most classic gesture. I hope you enjoyed reading it! Xx
Featured Image by Anshruta | @celluloidroll on Instagram