Disclaimer: If I owned anyone from A Great and Terrible Beauty, you would have heard of me.
A/N: There's not enough about Ann on this site. My first non-Inkheart fic! Tell me what you think.
Rose
The rose was red.
Red like the blood when…
I can't remember.
Do I want to remember?
Memory,
For me,
Is only pain.
Future,
For me,
Is servitude,
Is solitude,
Is knowing that my face
Is plain,
That no one could love me.
The rose was red.
Barely seen,
But seen,
Nonetheless.
I float now.
Dreamlike.
Light as song.
My vision filled with swirling fog,
Shapes I can't make out.
But I saw the rose.
His rose.
I loved him.
Yes, I remember.
I loved him.
How long ago?
I can't recall.
Only the rose
Is clear.
The rose was red.
Red like the pain
When the sorrow ran too long.
Red like the blood
When the blade cut too deep.
The rose was red.
I didn't know.
A/N: My friends say I'm cryptic. I like to think I'm metaphorical. What do you think?