Tarnish

Silent, palms flat in the sand
Her tears made tiny blotches
A soft breeze caressed her body
And she thought of him

Slowly her fingers grasped the chain
It was fastened around her beautiful neck
It was silver, made for her
On the end, slipping through her cold fingers, the thorn

The rose lay by her side, torn by her fury
By his lies; she would rather have the thorn, anyway
Flowers died, she was well aware of that
She would keep the thorn, to reopen the wound

She almost laughed at the thought of him, crouched beside her
His hand on the small of her back, done to comfort every time she shed a tear
His gift was a promise, but even promises get broken sooner or later
She knew this well, and yet she still smiled

She wondered if maybe it was a curse
To hold this gift, to watch it wither
Just like what they had
The thorn still looked so promising

She watched the rose become buried
Her eyes lifted to the water and she stood
Her footsteps were soft, but even still, she wanted release
Cold water, and she wasn't scared, staring at the setting sun

The girl could feel her ankles start to numb, and she smiled
Unhooking the clasp, she wrapped the gift he gave her around her shaky hand
Feeling herself fall forward, she never screamed, never uttered a damned word
It rushed into her, choking her, stiffening her lungs, stopping all breath

He would find her the next morning, pale and lifeless
Her funeral would be amongst one of the saddest things he'd ever attended in his life
Tears stung his eyes as he placed his hand on the coffin and let go
Something caught the rays of the sun that day; the rose, and the glue that held it together

He wouldn't forget, wouldn't allow her to ruin something so precious
Without having him attempt to fix it first
He smiled somberly and hoped that she'd see how much he cared
By keeping the fake rose she'd given him one day

Before that night, he told her he would stop loving her when his rose died
They never saw it coming, never dared to look, that when their boy had gone
The only thing that was left in his hand was that long stemmed-rose
Its white petals falling away onto the sidewalk, soaked in rich, red blood