Silent Trauma

Gone too soon like the sunset,

every year is a Shakespearean

tragic play that brings heart ache.

Lying awake in a bed of dying red

roses, young maiden, grow strong

with every tear that you shed like

blood. Fear not, young fawn, the

dawn will reopen the doors that

lead back into the Garden of Eden.

Weep not for the memories, but

do keep the regrets.