Roses
It’s almost laughable how often I’m found rotting inside myself.
Knees curled to my chest, lungs expanding and hesitating.
Sobs racking my body in violent tremors.
Silent.
Exhaling jagged breaths with trembling fingers.
You should see how exquisitely I break.
Blue eyes shimmering rimmed red, flecks of green, gold, grey.
Streaming.
Moon toned skin pink, blotched, raw.
Crimson staining cotton,
Painting the roses red.
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