Wilted Rose

Our love;
was like that of a bright red rose.
Encased within a jar;
glowing.
Strong and beautiful,
Our rose thrived within that jar for many months;
The glass in which encased it,
Unbreakable.
Or so it seemed.
With a string of events the glass jar was shaken;
Therefore falling to the ground,
Covering the ceramic floor in it's pieces.
And our rose was left untouched;
Wilting away with time,
Like that of an hourglass.
And within that time;
We frantically tried to pick up the pieces;
The sharp, jagged edges of the glass cutting deep into us.
No glue could ever put that glass jar back together.
And so without the protection of our jar;
The rose wilted.
Dying from air polluted with harsh words, subtle cries, and heartbreaking sobs.
In the end the rose was left to die,
Wilting away in the dark;
Where we left it,
Abandoning it to tend to the parts of ourselves that we had hurt trying to put it back together.
You'd said that nothing was ever beyond saving.
But you can't save a wilted rose;
For it is already too far gone.
Our wilted rose;
The fragility of it unbearable,
Died faster with every second I had left it there to die.
I'm sorry I couldn't save it.