I Still Have Your Rose
I still have your rose,
The one you gave me last summer.
I clench it in my wrist,
And press it against my chest.
The petals have fallen off,
And the stem is frail and gray,
But I’ve still not thrown it away.
I still keep it,
Carefully in my drawer,
Each day watching it as I move on.
I can’t go back to you,
You’ve hurt me too much,
But I can always go back to the rose,
And hold it tight,
And smell the dead love from it,
As that’s what takes me to you.