Poetry: Black Roses

I hope you don’t remember me,

for you do not deserve to.

I hope that when you search the skies

looking for a glimpse of who I was,

the sun scorches your eyes.

I hope the pain resembles

what you made me feel.


I hope they burn me

from your memory;

torch the roses you gave me

until there is nothing left.

Nothing left except

withered, black petals.

A bouquet of Black Roses,

the color of sadness and farewell;

you brought to my funeral.

After all, black roses

are often referred to as funeral flowers.


But I was not physically dead,

only inside of my head.

I hope that I am dead to you

because you are to me.

You don’t deserve to remember,

you don’t deserve to think;

you don’t deserve to even

have me in your memories.

-14 February 2018


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