Novel & Cerita Roses Are Red Dirty Poems For Him

Dream of owning me. Because the black rose is already blooming between your ribs. And when it opens fully, it will drink you dry.

A poem by Moxie, "Roses are red, viloets are blue....this stupid author has no update for you" A poem by Dante, "When it rains it pours, but hopefully not indoors...unless your author has dogs and dirt backyard...it makes keeping mud outside SUPER HARD"

His voice was full of bitter wonder. “This is how we are,” I corrected, letting the dress fall to the dirty floor. It was the first time we made love instead of fucking. It was the most violent of all our connections. Afterward, as he locked my handcuffs again, he kissed my wrists with a tenderness that split me in half. “I hate you,” he whispered. “I know,” I answered. “So do I.” When he left, leaving me alone with the ghost of his touch, I looked at the withered black roses beside the bed. In their center, a single petal still maintained its color—a red so deep it almost looked black.

Alina shifted in her chair, and his gaze was immediately glued to the movement, watching as Alina brushed her fingers over her jean pocket, where the rose resided underneath. The man in shadows smiled, "Looking at this rose, isn't it like looking into the heart of someone who has lost their purpose; a broken and desolate being?" He recited and watched as Alina subconsciously gripped the area over her pocket. Her long and delicate fingers, so much larger than he recalled, hovering protectively. She would start remembering, soon enough.

That man noticed everything, even the details I thought no one else did. Then yesterday, I woke up to roses. Not a dozen. Not a hundred. Fifteen hundred. My entire doorstep had been swallowed by red. There was a note tucked between the stems. “I miss you, Red. I still wake up reaching for you, and it’s hell when you’re not there.”

In reality, it’s hard as fuck to mock someone who sounds exactly like you. “They’ll pay,” I tell him dryly. “And then I’m taking that redhead home. Maybe the blonde too.” “I don’t know how your dick hasn’t fallen off from disease yet.” “Don’t be jealous,” I shoot back. “You’re the one who decided to settle down with one pussy for the rest of your life.” “It’s good pussy. And the fact that I’m, you know, in love with Danielle, doesn’t hurt.”

"Next time you look away when I'm talking to you, you won't like the consequence." The anger in his voice was ominous, I prayed that my brain remember that always. "Good girl." He smiled slightly, shockingly revealing two small dimples on his cheeks. I wanted to look away, how could I find a muderer to be good looking? Maybe, just maybe, if I didn't have to look at him... "Don't you dare look away!" "You're not talking to me..." My voice was barely above a whisper, but because he was so close, he heard me.

I warn the dark haired. He chuckles and shakes his head no. I roll my eyes at his childish behavior. His just turned sixteen for gods sake you'd think he'd be a little more mature instead of goofing around. “Look, I've brought you something.” He captures my attention. I frown when his smile widens and his hands show me a pure white, white rose in between his hands. “You're giving me a rose? A white rose? Are you-” “I love them because it reminds me of you. Pure, simple, elegant yet so fucking beautiful.”

My eyes widen at the sight of it. The rose is wilted, its petals on the verge of falling off. Beneath it is a glass reflecting my horrified reflection. I take the rose from the box to see what's beneath. There it is, a message in the middle of the glass, stroked in crimson. Happy 25th, Red. Love D. "Nonononono," I whisper in sheer panic, stuffing the rose back into the box and covering it quickly as I hear the doorknob rattling.

So here goes: Roses are red, Violets are blue, I'm not good at poems, But I'm crazy about you. I know it's not much, but I hope it makes you smile. I'm still learning how to be more expressive, but you're worth it. You deserve the world, and I'll do my best to give it to you. "It will go best with flowers," Derek said proudly. I nodded and said, "Alright, go get dressed. We are going together."