A girl with a flower
walking down the road
her hood over her head
the rain is like mist
soaking her hair
she stops to fix the lace
of her black converse shoe
when she's done she stands
but only to have to crouch down
to have to pick up the rose
the rose wasnt special
not given with love
merely picked from a bush
there was no meaning
behind the thorns
just a dark red rose
plucked out of boredom
she continues walking
looking at her surroundings
to her left was a shrub
more like a hedge
to have come to her waist
beyond the plant was a wall
the gray bricks only darker
thanks to the water
to her right was a road
made of black asphalt
reflecting the street lamps
and the occasional car headlights
she noticed a boy
he had no jacket
he approached her on his bike
but got off at her side
he asked her the hour
and to borrow her phone
she kindly obliged
and handed him the device
when he was done
he thanked her and left
not even a name
was exchanged
she looked up at the sky
the distant clouds
were beginning to part
but it would be awhile
untill the rain stops
she looked down at the rose
the misty rain
had gently placed dewdrops
on its velvet pedals
she marveled at its beauty
and continued walking
she was feeling odd
in a way not known to her
like something
was going to happen
but she wasnt sure
wheather it was good
or bad
she came to an intersection
to her left was a coffee shop
right was a gas station
she turned left
to stop for a drink
she left with a esspresso
her mom hates when she gets that
she didnt care
it was her money
she continued walking
the cup was warm
in her hand
it was welcoming
another uncommon feeling
the crossing button
was cold and slippery
she pressed it many times
not that she was in a hurry
she was just entertained
by the beeping noise
it gave when she did
the light turned green
and she took her first steps
she looked down at the flower
you forgot about it
didn't you
the water was still there
it shone with a brilliance
the light as bright
as the SUVs headlights
that dropped her
to the ground
on the cold wet road
that she stopped to gaze at
reflecting the street lamps
just like the one
next to the coffee shop
that she stopped to get a drink
the same kind of drink
that the biker had gotten
after he called his friend
to tell him to meet him there
with the phone
he had borrowed
when he stopped her
to ask for it
during that call
she focused on the rose
the one with no meaning
behind the thorns
that had cut her skin
of the palm of her hand
the thorns she avoided
when she stopped for a minute
to carefully pluck
from the group of roses
on the bush
people surrounded
her motionless body
including a boy
with a freshly picked rose
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