Keep the Faith

Roses are Red

Every year since that day he was taken I've come here and left the same gift.

Two roses. One real and one fake.

The real one is obvious in its purpose; it symbolizes the honest and undeniably pure love that I will always have for him.

The fake one is a terribly misinterpreted signal; it can easily be seen as wrong and plastic and lifeless.

But you see, the pretend rose does not symbolize fakeness or lies; it symbolizes eternity. The harsh synthetic petals do not stand for pain or hurt; they stand for unbeatable and invincible love.

These red roses stand for love.

Not for real love and fake love; for real love and endless love.

A rose can be stamped on and tore-up and shredded.

They break and they die.

Sometimes I feel our love was that rose.

But then I realize, I always realize, our love is the other rose.

Neverending.

Everlasting.

Forever.

I stand back and stare at the gravestone, those bitter and familiar tears beginning to smart in my needy eyes.

My vision blurs and the words carved into the stone become a mere smudge of memory; but I know them. I've known them off by heart for the last I don't know how many years.

I blink and I blink and I blink against the wind. The salty drops fall but I see, I can see, there it is. There is his memory.

My hero is many things.

Forgotten is not and will never be one of them.
♠ ♠ ♠
I hope it makes sense...