Giving back the flowers
the roses were red.we did not match.
me in H&M white,
him in armani black.
the wind kicked up.
another painted picture.
palm up he invited me,
but my hands were tied.
who knows where victory lies?
in smiles and glances?
or little touches?
big unsaid words?
a colorless doubt creeps.
yet sweet and low they thrive,
the roses, real and red.
in a newly washed old vase.
again he invites, with victory.
no second best or
second-hand guesses.....
first responses work best.
after noon i sat alone.
thoughts of smiles, glances blind me.
the flowers in the vase,
I could never consider giving back.
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