There upon the table lies the rose you left me,
Along with your written “good-bye”, carelessly scribbled upon
The note card of white paper.
Long ago, this scene would have been as tragic as Shakespeare, but Today it’s just a simple “good-bye”.
The brilliance of passion becomes lusterless, as
The rose withers upon the cloth.
The starkness of the truth becomes achromatized as,
The card yellows with acute time.
A petal falls from the rose and touches my hand.
I begin rolling it betwixt my fingers, diffusing the lingering oils,
Releasing its scent into the air, as I expulse you from my heart.
I know we were not meant to be, so I will go.
I am after a life full of laughter, and have tasks to finish.
So, good-bye and thanks for the memories.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem