All I remember is the rose.
Where I got it, how I brought it
Into your car, why you wouldn't drive
Are lost now. And what you told me,
That I'm sure I didn't really listen to
Anyway, it was mixed in with why
We were there, which was only ever
The vaguest of outlines: You loved me,
You hated me, you needed me gone,
There was someone else, we hurt each other
Enough that we could stop; the same story
One can flick on anytime when looking
For something to watch or blame.
Of what it felt like, though, the most
Important part, all that's left is
The blush of that rose, or maybe the blush
Was only on your face, or maybe there was
Only a pause in your eyes when you saw
What I held, a trace of something living
As the crushing teeth of the machine
Chewed calmly and slowly on.
