the roses by Aidan Oliver
in the gloom of late september
the golden petals
sitting before your window
remain untouched by sunlight
without tender warmth
they will wilt
and fall upon your floor
just as i have
grasping for your leftover touch
if not a singular rose
in the mouth of a lover
you nor your mother
would ever dare to pluck
those buds of love
from a field of flowers
but i’ll cut him some slack
how could he know?
of exactly what you like
of the orchids in your eyes
of the skeleton
lurking in your closet
unless i whisper in his ear
on my way out the door
AIDAN OLIVER attends the University of Pittsburgh and studies English Writing.
In his free time he enjoys writing poetry and short fiction. He is a Pennsylvania
native inspired by intimate encounters and the romance of everyday life.
