Blood Rose

by Sarah Goldsmith


The flower bursts into life
Before her tired eyes,
The shades so startling
It hurts her to look.
Colours so vivid,
So strikingly violent,
Ripped from the earth
And released into this one
Small bloom.

She’s seen this blossom before,
Knows the way that
The colours will twist
And turn, melting and
Merging into a
Mixture of reds
And purples that
Sickens her heart
And claws at her soul.

It matters not the season,
Nor the care she gives.
The flower will come
Whatever she may do.
Soon, the edges will curl
And begin to fade,
The raging reds
Giving way to green, to yellow,
Before slipping away.

But she knows that the flower
Has not gone far, for it
Always returns as soon as it dies.
She waits for the next time,
When she smiles the wrong way,
Or says the wrong thing.
He will raise his fists high
And the blood rose will
Bloom again.