~Gravity Rose

Originally written in May, 2004, rev May 2009


My pricked and bleeding flesh
from a thorn's rosey afront…
Betray beauty in a brutal flora.
Tears flush the burnt coral I smell.

The fault and pain made mine...
remains of innocent opposition
buried by collapse, bad recoil that
pride did need, denying the darkness.

Love infatuated ruins the innocent,
just like water negates the fire of flames.
Neither life, nor innocence, contest
the inevitable demise, of romance.

Until then, you and I, dance
the tragic heartbreak tango
wounded by stakes lost in storm.
Our steps now soaked on flooded floor.

With a saving grace, context
teaches mobius tricks exist
whereby openings are closures,
revealing sources beyond sublime.

My sadness grows with regards
to tender nostalgia over the worst
requited release in the evil of love.
A soul destroyer, with noisey word rattle.

Her articulation of my failure, now
years passed, razes just as bad.
And any hope of change betrays
the word pricks that remain.

Grown up, a better man,
her words struck in scars.
How I live feeling that wrong
keeps me up late still, injurious.

Our life's blooming rose path
some are lucky just to hear
of, grave my warnings, if lame
as I gravitate this read anyway.

Of her earlier thorns...
I never understood her pain
only later, when I was safe
from our demonic side-effects.

I cut her off in a pass, so my bad
she decides, and our world ended.
Plain and simple, in a boy slamfest
better maimed than roadkill she said.

My anger was exchange of discredit.
A word assault to strike and probe.
That layer is groundwork of challenge.
Tomorrow's sober stories will tell.


Copyright © 5/17/04, RJDuberg
Revised 5/30/09