Bleached Roses
4.17.08

dozens of roses bleached white,
their ruby hue bleeding into the daytime sky
climbing through the air in ribbons
rivulets
they squirm, they crack the sky like lightning
they kiss my forehead, leaving behind
a lipstick-red imprint
in the shape of a flower petal

when rain courses down God’s cheeks,
pounding the earth,
and washes all the (blood) paint away,
all I’m left with is a tear-blue sky, green earth
and bleached roses

Author’s Note: Ashleigh, if you read this poem, please PM or email me. I haven’t spoken to you in ages, and I’m getting really worried about you.