Damask

She wasn’t just any rose,
She was the whole damn garden
Yet, you couldn’t see past her thorns.

Patient, she waited for you to notice
Her love- abundant.
In sunshine, she bloomed
In rain, she folded herself

Her scent drove you mad
Crushed, she oozed hot-sweet pleasure
Green tea and lemons,
A spoonful of honey.

Her touch, intoxicating
Soft as velvet, artful
You swore you’d found heaven
Every beat of your heart pulsed for her

And now you sit, your mind like a moth flickering round a flame
Trying to re-capture the scent of your rose, the feel, her look
Yet, you were the one who cut her down

She’s gone
Only to blossom in memory.

 

~damask

Anna G. Watson

~ educator, aspiring writer, simple design and style

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