Spurned

Spurned

When Spring’s hope fills the air, the rose opens with grace and a fragrant sigh.

Warm flesh greets ice-cold metal and gives way to metal’s pointed sting.

The space between heartbeats is silent but my ears ring with a terrible din.

Crystal speckles dot the space between my eyes and the hardness before me.

In Winter, the rose retreats into itself to await the arrival of kinder days.

16 thoughts on “Spurned

  1. Pingback: Spurned — Writers Envy – Words to Love

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