When the final curtain falls
I will throw 3 roses
at your feet

One of pink and two of
White
I am still trying to figure out
How to accept defeat
And surrender gracefully
To the ebb and flow of life

….

My mother was a collector of flowers
And pretty leaves
And I was her apprentice.
Should I ever be drawn to a flower,
I should hold its roots between my thumb and index fingers
Hold the pressure, steady now, and
Yank, yank, yank!
Put it in a vase filled with tap water
And leave it by the window
So that it can still feel the warmth of the sun

I started to realize
The vanity of my admiration
When your eyes lost their glow
To these god-awful stage lights.
You put on the performance of a life time
And I was always enamored by the words
You stole from my mind.
You always knew that the greatest artists are
The greatest thieves
Collectors of ideas they fancy
And mimics of the ones they aim to please.

When the final curtain falls
I hope you can understand:
I did not mean to yank you
I only thought I was
Uplifting you
I did not mean to confine you
I only though I was
Protecting you
I did not mean to kill you
I only thought I was
Loving you
….

I am still trying to figure out
How to accept defeat
And surrender gracefully
To the ebb and flow of life.
It is easy to be blinded by a beautiful illusion
And you put on one hell of a show.

-F.S.