La tristeza de las rosas

For all my favorite Roses
 
Born into tragedy;
   she is celebrated, adored, nurtured, envied, blessed -
   she is beaten, sacrificed, scrutinized, enslaved, damned -
 
Sadness accompanies her along moon-lit sands,
She knows that with Sadness comes calloused hands.
 
Her footsteps mirage a tale of fallen beauty-
Precise and controlled, yet liberating;
Effortless.
 
Here was, the silhouette of a woman who wears sadness like a Queen.
With lips that part for careless whispers that ease self-loathing.
She weighs each sin upon her wrists, embracing the wholeness of emptiness-
Beauty blossoms, stemming from her fresh wounds she has evolved from enduring to living.
She dreams of
                                 c l o u d s &
                                      graves,
                         fleeting,
           inconstant,
  evanescent.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741