Decay

She let the rose fall from her hands.

She watched the blood flow from the puncture wounds and fall,
drop by drop,
to the ground

Where it lay.

She saw his face, his smile.
Handing her the rose.

She saw his back, shoulders hunched, head down, dark and foreboding.
Walking away.

She saw their relationship,
decaying over time.

Eventually dying.
Like the dead rose at her feet.

Drenched in blood.