Rose Lemonade

A Poem by Intothemilkyway

Oh,rose lemonade

Yes,the one you are drinking.

The one filled with roses and petals.

It sparkles with only one ray of the sunlight coming in.

It's so beautiful on the outside.

But on the inside,

it clearly shows that you are hurting.

Oh,how fancy you drink it.

You keep it with one hand

and you slurp on your straw.

Delicious, but for how long.

You know it's bitter and you don't like it.

But you still drink it.

You have made a habit of it,

drinking it every afternoon.

More than a drink it's like a poison.

It has gotten into your head and

you still keep drinking.

Oh, yes the smell.

It has poisoned your thoughts

and you can't seem to get it out of you.

Oh,dear

you seem to be fragile just like a rose.

You look beautiful on the outside

but you also have thorns.

And if someone cuts you off,

you hurt.

And then what you do.

You die.

But it's so beautiful that no one

seems to notice the pain.

The beautiful rose petals have now withered

and as you look at them in the palm of your hands.

You forget that you have been staying for so long in the bath tube.

It's time for you to get out.

And oppps, you throw your lemonade in,

unable to catch it everything just blands in.

You look at it but you don't seem to mind.

And there you go unable to fix your own mind

and realizing the problem.

Oh,but you will come back surely tomorrow.

And the day repeats itself.

How long for you to notice your pain?

© 2019 Intothemilkyway

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Reviews

barleygirl

This is one of the best poems of yours I've read. I love this poem. It's so expressive. It kinda tiptoes, going along, putting one more morsel out there, bit by bit, fleshing out the scene you depict, saying so much of the story thru imagery, excellent extended metaphor, way to SHOW instead of tell! This reminds me of how, whenever I start a friendship with a man, I automatically try to stuff it into the "Rose Lemonade" decanter, as if wanting to be romantically involved is a given. This is rubbish. I am so outside what men go for, plus they aren't what I go for, either. All my life I've been good friends with many men, but I can't even remember a single true romantic connection among them. Yet I still turn into my mother, at the beginning of getting to know a man, doing all that "relationship" s**t that women do. Well, in my Buddhist studies, at least I recognize what I'm doing. That's half the battle (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie