plucked off a red rose knowing not what for
all i recall was that it said,
"i'll look good on her hair".
the glory of the rose lied in its hue, flaunting itself
made its way to my pale patched pouch
began finding my way to her.

there she stood being the finest shade of elegance
metres away from her,
there stood i glancing the rose
realised, she made its hue fade .

the glistening face and the serene eyes of her
were enough to take my breath away, with her.
this grace scared me, made me to question myself
"is she more than what I asked for?"
with every second of admiring her,
grew my insecurity of being rejected
coz i knew, i was just chasing her shadows,
and her shadows will never hug mine.
so i took out the flower, and crushed it
as i knew it better, that
petals better be shattered,
than to be a flower of rejection.