Work Text:
A crimson rose sat on my windowsill, beautiful and alone
The pit grown unbearable, as though I swallowed a stone.
Dread consumes me, guilt and dismay,
For stealing you, is this the price I pay?
Tools gathered, gloves on still
I take the lone flower up off my windowsill.
The overgrown forest I go, head hung shameful,
My heart aches as I walk, the journey as painful.
I plant you once more from the place that I stole
I feel as though I leave behind with you my soul.
At home I lay, windowsill cleared, my mind is racing, for I am as alone as I feared.
Tears shed at no ones fault but my own, you would grow healthy supported by your grassy green thrown.