Death Of Our Love

You kept
your ex girlfriend’s
dead rose
and my breathing poem
you put in the trash
and though my reply
to your actions
may be rash
you made me itch
at the thought of this shit

I sratch my skin

it flakes off

like the petals of

rose did

and
as little as it may seem
it meant a hell of a lot
to me
I feel like
your holding on

to her
I could be wrong
but I doubt it
your past
is too much in our present
and when you
presented that rose to me
I wilted
it wasn’t the only beauty
that was dead

© copyright Tia L. Clarke 2007