The Twelve Roses of tragedy is a poem I wrote after being inspired by the heart wrenching film ‘For Colored Girls’; the drama, raw emotion, & poetry in that film stirred up my creative juices moving me to write something that captured that same raw emotional essence, this is the result. This poem is meant for mature readers only. If you are easily offended by shrewd language & content you might want to skip this post. This is raw and uncut; you’ve been warned. If you like it please leave me a comment too let me know what you thought thank you for reading. This is…

The Twelve Roses of Tragedy
by Edward LIMITLESS Taylor III

I see you Sista, red eyed, eye’s full of tears & sorrow, I hear your despair as you tell your story.
“This nigga had the audacity, after all that BULLSHIT, to send some damn roses”, she said as she gazed at the roses in disgust, Her thoughts running in a chaotic fuss. She mulled over the representation of each one.

I suppose the first represents how I got swindled by his charismatic penis; seduced into giving up the gift I had preserved for my honeymoon.

The second rose must be for the time, after the tenth time, when I found out He was ten years married… That BASTARD! The third one must be the barer of his apologies; His, “I’m sorry baby”; His, “I’ll leave her next month baby”, and don’t let me forget this classic, “just be patient baby this is hard for me”, NERGO PLEASE; I’ll never forget the way I fell to my knees when you said, “I’m sorry baby but that’s not my baby”….

The fourth has too be for when I took him back after he said to me, “Baby please, my wife just left me after She found out about our two year old son”- Man I must have wanted some bbbaaaddd to have taken his dumb-ass back.
The Fifth one is kinda for the time you slapped me sooo hard I went blind for 12 seconds- right…? Thats all I can remember…?! Damn….

Six… hmmm… OH YEAH I know. Six must be for after that day when my cousins found you & them size twelves pounded you; settling the score when they nearly drowned you…, you dirty prick.
Seven must be for Deven- the only man who made me believe there is a God in Heaven; He made me believe that good men DO exist.

Eight… Eight is for the eighty eight tears I shed in the E.R. waiting room, while the Doctors tried to sow up Devens exit wounds left by your bullets. YOU MURDER!!!
Nine is for the nine months Deven & I had before you ended our time, I can still see the muzzle flashes left by your nine…, I hope you rot in Hell, I’m glad you got life with no hope for parol; Now it’s time for the healing of my soul.

Ten simply represents the end of this vicious cycle.
Well on too Eleven. Eleven has gotta be for the eleven days you have left before they through the switch & as you gasp your last I hope you see me starring at you smiling on the other side of the glass.

Twelve roses where waiting for me when I returned home that day. I was stuck, frozen, when I read your last apologetic token. It read, “I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. I’m so sorry for the hurt & the loss you must’ve felt or may be still feeling. This is my last request, Please forgive me for what I’ve done & please tell our son- “blah blah blah”….
I saw you Sista, red eyed, tears full of sorrow; I saw your despair. I heard the vexation of your soul when you said,
“I can’t believe he had the audacity to send me some damn roses”…
“Ain’t that some shit”….

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