Classic blue rose;

Sensual, yet a knotted stitch

Caged moths flutter; abused internally

Butterflies gather

Scents of honey, inhaling tar

The breath; ice-like tear drops

Before snow endured winter

And yet, winter endured death

She knew the cancer inside her

A scorpion clashing with the sounds of her own blood pounding heart

Yet night becomes dusk

New birds sing to those that rust

Black lines, smothering her lovesick eyes

Hydrangeas make no home for the diseased heart.

Sorrow awoke, oh, how could it.

Photo by:M A R Y V O N R O S E