shorts

White Rose

I duck under my cover,

As my guilts hover,

Their presence drove me to fear,

Yet soothing having another voice to hear,

I shuffle across streets,

A ghost with no feats,

My only company a mind of rot,

At least, that's what they all thought.

There's no 'we' when it comes to me,

Never has been, never will be,

Putting faith in people,

Lets the thorns sink in,

Leaving you weak and feeble.

There's no furniture in my white room,

Gives me a fake sense of livelihood to assume,

I like to spoil myself,

Plain colors are all the rage,

They never lie to you,

She can tell you herself.

I cherish my memories of her,

The mere sight of her lighting my hollow shell,

The world would blur and light a spotlight, 

Just like scenes in the movies were,

Her snow white dress, unfazed by her gentle swaying

She stand out amongst the rest,

Enticing and seducing her audience,

No deformities existed to detest,

Her small hands lure me to her,

They teased and motioned as she giggled,

Her glance was entwining,

Binding her viewer to her forever.

I couldn't resist the calls whining,

My feet padded their way instinctively,

I was hungry, ready for dining,

But for sight not for food,

The distance closed between us,

The world paused when the moment was right,

And so there it was, a white rose in plain sight.