THE WHITE ROSE PAINTED WITH BLOOD

xxv - ivylined facades

he watched as a strand of her hair fell into her face
observed the color of her eyes
swirls of dark blue and something darker than black
gazing out of the corner of his eye
as she wrote the poem
(as flowers bloom wherever your pen touches the paper, i wither internally)

she found him quite intriguing
of his charisma and quirk
and the thousand colors that lived in his head
that he spilled out into ideas on his paper
creating masterpieces
yet there was something behind his facade
something she couldn't quite reach

they talked in whispers in the library
passing notes when what they had to say was too long
brainstorming and writing poem drafts
their hushed voices mixing
with the rhythm of the quietness, not silence
for quiet is soft and silence is loud
when it was over regret pulled at both their heartstrings

together they walked quietly out the library door
away from the table where they sat near the window
the window with swirls of ivy
twirling around the wood frame and rope net
blooming into orange flowers
with star shaped leaves for petals
to meet the October sky

like the walls of the school
the ivy hid the secrets that lay in each room
for they hid their hearts and who they were
with ivylined facades
so beauty could be seen on the outside
while they tried to discover who they were
though neither knew
for they were too scared of what they'd find