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.