The single rose that an apologetic young man
rudely plucked away from a shrub.
Along his aspiring excursion up her fire escape
apon her window seal.
Rueing for making her heart twinge with regret
,and the countinues rain flowing from her tear ducts.
That single rose, his single rose.
With held centuries worth of histories triumphs and downfalls.
The bud hasnt even reached full bloom but yet it speaks to me
With profound insight and wisdom.
Why remain at a stand still with a man?
Who perpetually puts you in a mental state of distress
,and leaves you with the constant urge to express
contempt by partcially clinching your fist with only a medius finger left protruding in the middle of your hand?
Here i stand.
With this bitter sharp thorn pressed against my heart.
I see thy rose, my single rose start to wilt. 
As the once beautiful petals start to shrivel and crack.
The use to be verdent stem now brown with mold.
So quickly how beauty fades overtime,
and overtime this single Rose, my single rose      
I realize it is only just a rose.