silk flowers i

From silk to roses
I watched her petals fall
"She loves me;
she loves me not"
I counted by the syllable
hanging on to every letter
but when it came down to it
it didn't matter.

Sure, it was years later,
but still
it happened
or, at least, it is happening.

This may be the day
that instead of being feasted upon,
the beautiful
defiant
flower, growing where no man
said it should,
or could,
this may be the day
that for once
the rose devours the worm.

From silk to roses, I watched
each motion of her lips
each flicker in her eye
each flutter in her hair
and from roses to silk
I felt
extinguished.

The rose knows that
through the weeds
she alone is
one
in a forest of ambivalence
daring
in standing out above the rest, yet
unsure and too humble to
admit she's wonderful.

I adore the rose, from a distance
but the worm in me desires
the warmth in her lovely
leaves.