The Bramble
In the day of digital, I withdrew all my cash;
one hundred and seventy-three
and drove around town buying up
all the roses that I could see.
Will this conglomerate of different colors
which make up a traveling bramble
touch her heart as I need it to,
a garden of my silent ramble?
I walk to her door,
face hidden by petals and thorns,
a desperate madman seeking redemption
for which I wish her soul to be adorn.
But it would not be, I didn’t get it right,
I’m surrounded by blue and red authoritative lights.
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