Red Rose

I wrote this story a few years ago and  I would like to share it. It's about a man's intoxication with his beloved. Enjoy!


“Softness is the petals of a rose
Sweetness is the flavor of your lips
The beauty of your eyes, of passion
Turns my heart into those, the petals
Of a rose.”

On this table there is a red rose. I need a cigarette. Intoxicate me, please. I listen to some odd noise coming from far away. I lost myself in some spurious thoughts, shivering in fear just when I think about it. I see her again. In a dress made of smoke, she’s coming towards me. She’s bizarre and I never know what she thinks. Her eyes are mysterious, her lips are a secret. I don’t want to yearn for her. I don’t want to hate myself for wanting her. I just cry. Give me a cigarette, please. It’s hard for me to walk throughout the day. Bitter and dishonest. Love is not on my side. Love is distant and she doesn’t care. On this table there is a rose, withering. Somebody is approaching me through my nightmares. Some person. What is it this time? Who? Rose flickers in the sight of this wonderful woman. She’s crawling through the fresh grass and poisonous bush appearing in front of me. I cry, again. She’s sliding silently, toward my face with her mouth wide open. I’m terrified. I see her tongue coming out. It’s long and soft. She licks my tears away. That brings hope but it will be gone almost immediately, I know. I am a rose and I shake from sorrow. I notice her again in a dress of smoke. She’s smiling, holding me closely and I don’t know what this means. I’m on the edge of madness because of love. She gives me some unusual kiss. Again, I’m not sure what it meant or if it was a genuine kiss. What does the whole thing mean? I’m a rose, contemptuous and shivering and I need ease. Some feeling went through me like lightening strike me. She lets go of me and starts observing, altering her face expressions. Goddess, a dream, beautiful dream that you desire and delightful being you want to touch and smell that makes you curl from sadness, pleasure and excitement.


“I am a rose”, she repeated after me.

“I am a rose”, she repeated quietly, sobbing.

We are roses. We shiver, and we probably will never be one rose. All that’s left is fascination, some twisted enchantment. That’s probably the lack of nicotine. Everything is someplace where we are not, far away. A place we left, destroying all our possibilities, we will never come back to. At least not like this, in this form. Her picture slowly becomes visible, somewhere. Mine as well. Smoke. I need smoke. I need her, now, more than ever. Maybe everything is a lie but that doesn’t mean anything, I need that. That’s what’s essential. I am a rose. We are roses. Frightened. Shuddered. We are smoke and poison. We are gloomy and desperate. Lie down and don’t ever leave.

By Me