Sep 12, 2018
fallen roses of stories filled with bad endings,
blessed beauty cursed with poor tainted taste,
stargazing over celestial choices,
she finds it hard to love again,
no one wants to mend that battered broken beating thing in her chest,
no one wishes to paint the picket fence picture of love’s perfection,
but she’ll never stop craving,
so let the roses keep falling,
like rain, like hail,
callous cold droplets of white freezing, melting tears,
can fill lakes, and like snakes,
she continues to shed them,
roses can’t love with the cut of thorns.
