Remember the rose you gave me on
the day we went on our first road trip?
I didn’t keep it between the pages of
my favourite book. I left it to dry near
my pen-stand. Each day since, I look
at it as a trophy of our failed love.
Yesterday, I plucked the petals and
made it into a face-pack. Maybe the
remains of the flower will bring the
same glow on my face as you once did.

- SJ