Painting Roses Gray Prose

I watched your passion fade as you colored all your roses gray. A barren field of dispassion and apathy is all that remains. I wonder where your passion went, and what happened to all those things you said you loved.

I watched you sprinkle dust upon your heart with calloused, lifeless fingers. I saw the vessel pale and crumble as it slowed to a stop. You smothered the life of your own precious heart, and I swear that it nearly smothered mine.

And next you picked up the needle and thread, and wove the yarn of silence through your lips. Never once did you consider that your words were lullabies to me. Every note and every syllable was a ballad of comfort. But never will I hear those songs again. Forever you are mute, never to strike up a word again.

Often times I wonder whether you were sick of me or reality. I wonder what caused you to bleach your eyes with blindness. The amazing world and all its wonders—all your loved ones, all the gorgeous places you have never seen—will never be of access to your beautiful brown orbs again. They all lie much further beyond the barrier of sightlessness which you have created.

I hope you memorized my voice. I hope you can replay it in your mind whenever you please. It may deceive you, making you forget that you are now deaf by your own doing. With cotton wads of silence you stuffed your ears; never again will you be able to hear me say, "I love you."

You dried up like a neglected plant during a drought. You turned yourself into a weathered book with feather-light pages warped like wood. Quickly, you blotted out the words and let them wear away.

You faded right in front of me, becoming a ghost of everything you used to be. Most diamonds start out as jagged rocks before they learn to shine. But you were a diamond who lost its luster and receded back into the sediment, and no one could save you no matter how hard they tried. I attempted to shake you and bring you back, but you were too far gone.

Though losing you caused my heart to ache, what pained me more was watching you destroy yourself. You never stopped to consider what that might do to me, and I wonder if you even cared. You were so lost within your deteriorating shell you failed to think of anyone else.