By Jeff Dupuis
A petal falls from the roses on the bar
and lands softly on the tile floor.
These roses haven't lasted nearly as long
as the last ones I bought you, six months ago
for Valentine's Day.
There's something to be said about the fertility of a relationship
where love can bloom brightly and stay that way
even without roots or soil.
It's like magic, and when that magic runs out
the petals fall to the floor, the roses wilt,
and you're left picking up the pieces
and tossing them in the trash.
Jeff Dupuis writes poetry, fiction, and non-fiction. His work has appeared in The River Journal, The Acta Victoriana, and Blood Lotus Journal, among others. In his off-hours Jeff likes to train in the martial arts, or if nothing else, watch straight-to-DVD martial arts movies. He currently lives and works in Toronto, Canada.