A poem entitled The Fiction of the Fairy Tale


black roses

The Fiction of the Fairy Tale

I purchased a gift of beauty

A perfect bunch of roses of red

I took them home and prepared

For the day I would present them to you

Carefully I removed the thorns

Taking away the threat of pain

Hidden in such a lovely package

I arranged them carefully

Waiting for you to marvel

At their superiority

But instead of a romantic interlude

A battle ensued

We screamed and cried

You hated me and god I hated you

So my wonderful roses were placed

In a dark closet

Undeserving of light

You did not deserve to adore them

Time went on

We reconciled

False promises were made

It will never happen again

Time passed

The cycle repeated

But neither of us left

We remained an us

Despite the fact

That sometimes we cursed our fate

A years time

I was looking for that sweater

The one that you hate

And in that darkened closet

I found my flawless roses

They were desiccated

Shriveled and black

Dead

I presented them to you

And told their story

You cried when I said

Love isn’t perfect

It is dead, black, closet roses

With the thorns removed

Because the real thorns are in our words

But you keep them

Because even when they die

This mess that we call us

Survives

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