Here in the garden

Let's see roses.

So pretty yet dangerous,

I want one, to be like them.

I grab it with my bare hand.

Blood trickling down my arm as I have the perfection in my hands.

Looking down...

As it wilts with my warm touch...

The rest fades away as I realize it will be gone.

Drip, drip, drip

the sound of my opportunities when they fall slowly to the ground below

Left to die...