Roses of Love (short story w/poem)

Roses of Love

(Continued)  Soon after they had first met, he sent her yellow roses to brighten her day, and would find out the flowers upset her because her girlfriend interpreted the color yellow as goodbye.  To ‘correct’ the situation, he became too cautious, reading into everything for signs of her being unsure of him.  Finely, she said “these past weeks you have done nothing but please me.  I mean, you have bent over backwards to please me, and that’s the problem.  I can’t get a grasp on the situation because I’m not sure if this is the real you.  Understand?”

“You want me to do something to anger you?”

Hesitancy, “Ummm, okay, yes, do something good angry…a small thing, don’t go overboard.”

He was confused, but more importantly, they now had finally admitted to each other they had a problem communicating their feelings.

A few days later he purchased two dozen red roses and proceeded to ruin the flowers by cutting the petals off and placing them in a Ziploc bag.  Attached to the bag was a note: Tonight as you lay in your bed, allow these petals to float down on your fantastic body, so that each petal softly kisses you as my lips hunger to.  He had wrapped the gift in gold foil.  First thing in the morning he personally delivered the package to her office, asking a secretary to give the package to her when she arrived.

Later, when he had returned from lunch, Kris, a coworker, stopped him and said she had a phone message for him, her sassy blue eyes dancing at his expense, “the female caller said quote ‘anger, not arousal’ unquote.”  He thanks Kris, and then makes a fast exit stage left.

An hour passes, and while he is leaning back in his chair envisioning more fellow employee laughs, she calls.  “Are you angry?”

“Somewhat…but I’ll live, maybe in shame every time I pass Kris, but I’ll live.”

“See, that’s good angry.  You did good romance, not good angry.”

He heard her, but his mind was still on the roses. “Hello?” “Sorry.”  “You are.  By the way, what was it about the roses that would anger me?”

“I have no idea; that’s what I was just thinking about.  Seemed like a good idea last night.”

“Good, because I thought I had missed something…Before I hang up, the rose petals felt sooooo nice.”

As they reach their house she shoulder bumps him back to reality, “You were lost in thought there mister.”

That night, as the stars filled the sky, he pens her a love poem:


Close your eyes and trust me

let my hands guide you through

our love


Please, ask of me

I shall provide


Lay your head upon my chest


sleep with soft gentle dreams


And when you awake,

kiss me

kiss not just my lips

but your lips as well


(Roses of Love (2012) is a work of fiction adapted from Through a Stranger’s Eyes (2005) a work of fiction, and the poem Trust (2005), each copyrighted by Steven S. Walsky, all rights reserved.)

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