This Is Not Art

Poetry to Split the Social Order

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Roses

the rose petals littered the floor of the apartment
Ethereal weaves of red sweetness
and the ceiling dripped wax
while she stared into space
Empty eyed
looking out at the world as if under a frozen pond
the days all morphed in front of her desolate stare
she closed her eyes
she thought of something beautiful
her, with wings, flying above this rust covered world
everything bathed in a bright orange glow
then she smiled
as she lit the first match
and lay down in her bridal dress
to accept the flame

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