Tearing Roses Apart

Yesterday I tore roses apart

At first I thought

Why would I do that? They are so beautiful and fragile

They laid in my hands and I could’ve done anything to them

But I decided to tear them apart instead of placing them in the water

They were old anyway

They were going to die anyway,

I thought later on.

I could have just simply left them alone too

Not give any importance, in hopes that, someday

They would by their selves regain strength

And get back the beauty and the shine

But instead, I destroyed them.

I probably destroyed them because I was bored

Or maybe even because I didn’t know how to handle them

I’m not a good person, I can’t take care of such a frail piece

I don’t even know if I wanted a rose

For a long time I awaited for one

Expecting one thing

And when I finally got it

I tore it.

Like I tore everything else.

Because the truth, is that beautiful things can indeed belong with me

But I don’t let them

I destroyed the roses

And today I live in fear

That you will be my next rose.