bleeding rosette

once upon the ruins of a
dead september night,
the caterpillar sky
swallowed the
mushroom moon

and all that was left of its corpse
were merely splotches of light
glowing from within the
subterfuge of memories

an angel's lone teardrop
spilled onto
the polluted earth-
sprinkling a breath of life
against the particles
of dust and death

and just like magic,
a single flower
blossomed
despite the constant
massacre
of innocence

she was the reincarnation of hope,
fragile as a porcelain doll
and easily as breakable with
sassy girl eyes and sinful midnight
hair that hung loosely right
above her ribcage

ashes from her teacup dreams
lay buried deep beneath the cracks
on the floorboards and there were
bruises on her legs that looked
like purple smudges made
from fat crayons

a petal of cancer existed inside her
when her finger got pricked by barbed wire
and she gave birth to a flower with thorns
that made her bleed in
falsetto

.
.
.