Thursday, January 29, 2015

poem of the day 01.29.15

last year’s rose

she caught me
with my head in my hands
covering my face

on the verge of tears

she caught me red-handed
and she asked me, are you all right?

i told her that i was fine

it was just an itch, i said
my forehead burned from too much sun

i had enough
bad lies to get by

but what was i going to really tell her?

how broken i felt?
how desolate and scared and alone?

that i no longer knew how to help
you or me or anyone

or how just before she came in
i’d found the rose that you sent me last year
on our ninth anniversary

dried and peeling in my drawer

but still smelling almost as sweet
as the day that it arrived

from your heart to mine.


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