Stalk as dry as her cracking brittle bones
Scraping at the corners of the air,
Scratching the rim of the replacement vase.
The cold shiny steel sucking the stained roses red bloodless life.
Their fragile state holds time
Moves place.
The transient shadow cast on the new greying wall wavers hitting cold damp air,
Floating through dimmed window shattered plate, pane of glass,
Bladed past.
One petal remains.
Hanging on as if clinging to some purity lost in new found innocence.
White overpowered by sordid bleeding blight.
These roses are old and belong to a different me.
There is a pink to the grisly rain and these emblems need to run free.
The petals in my palm shiver on the wind as they scatter into the swirling sea.
The earth takes on a new form
Painting patters of pain that is, that are, too pretty to see.
Sinking deeper and darker the gentle flash fades away.
Waves of pleasure hit and eb and flow in new found ecstasy of my lost found mind.
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