Pale white thornless roses rested for consecutive days on their front porch. Each came with four-seven-five poems embraced with sweet words but failed to have a name under it. Scarlet had been busy drowning with the visions of her past that she didn't have interest to find who sends the roses. She had little hope that it was from him, but it most certainly cannot be him. Until one time she received a white rose, along with the haiku that seemed more familiar. With this, she was so sure it was from him but then suddenly a different guy claims that he was the one sending her roses. The truth have yet to be unfold and when it does, will it set her free from all the pain in the past? Or will it pull her into a dark abyss? © 2014, Fromouterspace.