Roses in a Makeshift Vase (A Poem)

Another poem I wrote just now at the time of this post!  I don't mind writing poems on the spot, it's mostly the neglect of posting short stories that I feel guilty about.  After the story I'm currently working on I'm gonna do some revising, so hopefully I'll have some prose to post semi-soon.

There is, indeed, an empty bottle of Jack Daniels filled with 3 roses (2 red, 1 yellow) and tap water on my desk.  For Valentine's Day, my RA taped roses to everyone's door, which of course means their inevitable death (as happened to most of them).  Since I live in a quad, there were 4 roses on our door, so I gave the only one I thought would live to a friend, who is caring for another rose.  I felt too guilty to throw the others away though, so I washed out the empty bottle, filled it with water, and plopped them in.  Things were grim at first, but they seem to be doing pretty well now.  I wasn't initially gonna write about them, but I will admit, I have grown a bit attached to them - I glance over at them constantly to see if they're doing better.  


I was gonna post for Valentine's Day but didn't have time, so this will have to do - I posted about crushes on my other blog.  It's definitely a rough poem, but let me know your thoughts so I can improve it!  Thanks for reading, hope everyone enjoyed their V-Day, until next time!
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Roses in a Makeshift Vase
by Matthew Stalbaum


in a liquor bottle filled with tap water,
withered roses that look
mostly of death, but color
remains, red's blush, yellow's sunlight,
their heads hang low (I pick one up
in my fingers, but let it fall
again, afraid of my touch) they still smell
of the garden
from where they were plucked, the green air
they breathed so deep

one blossoms, its petal fan,
its edges slightly stale, but full
in the middle, will the leaves
of the other grow soft again?

i cannot do without them, they breath
as I breath, nodding to sunlight,
should I awake to hard brown petals, they'll stay
in water, until I know it lies still, until
they cease to be roses, just husks, and
i'm alone