True it is. I just realized it as soon as I found some of the dried roses kept as bookmarks in-between my books and diaries. The white rose which you gave, when we met for the third time. Remember what was it for ? You said, you want to know me more. You want to know my existence more than a stranger. Either a new beginning or an everlasting love, it was all for ! Strangely, I'm once again a stranger for you. But this time a known stranger. And then, the yellow one. My then favourite colour it was I guess ? Yeah. You gave it for no reason. May be it did had something to do with us, but you didn't say. May be for Friendship ? Pink rose. As a token of admiration, mentioned by you. That pink one is suppressed in between the pages of my diary through which grief is flowing. Last but not the least, a red rose. We'll know, it's about this undying-not-so-soon-to-be-confessed feeling but shown through gestures. But,
I have a small garden of roses specifically in my books and diaries . But they're all died. The flowers inside there screams for being caged since so long. But they don't know, they're the last memories of him. I've always had a thing with flowers, be it dry or fresh. They somehow symbolises 'life' and 'death' !
I feel alive whenever I see those fresh flowers in my backyard but the next moment, I open my closet I feel like I'm no more.
People ask me why I've been growing so many flowers when I've no-one to give them. And every time I just smile and reply "I've been growing these flowers for the funeral of my feelings. I'll put them on the grave of my love for the one who gave me those then, fresh and now dired roses !"