roses.txt (guest post)

2 a.m. , thinking about you
standing at the window
staring at some… nothing, just looking down
(my sight could now easily get to China … or Australia, or something like that)

and I’m wondering
if the roses from my neighbours’ garden last ‘till you come home
(and if they do, will you still love them when I’ll bring them to you? or you’ve changed in the meantime, too?)
‘cause that’s the flower that you like, the rose

it makes me think that you’re so mainstream,
most of the time;
(and there’s nothing wrong about being mainstream…)

5 a.m. , after kind-of-an-argument with you over the phone
but the roses wither
so they won’t last
as long as we want them to last

and I can clearly see a petal detaching,
floating, surfing in the air,
touching the ground with a grave, but practically silent sound
when you say again
that I don’t know what I want
and that I’m acting like a girl…

(and what saddens me is that you actually may be right.)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s