Imaginary Roses
If this were a romance novel, I’d take your hand in mine, but it’s not.
There’s no reassurance of a happily ever after,
No promise of reciprocated feelings.
But if we were on a page, I’d let my fingers interlock with yours
And yet, here we stand, hands apart, living our own lives.
Life is more thorns than roses.
Yet in a world of roses, we’d have more than just unspoken tension.
We could have a world full of roses,
But sadly, we’ll remain with thorns—
Our hands living apart,
While I’m forced to sit and read about what we could be
Blood dripping down onto the page from the thorns
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