Roses

by Wayne Russell

The blood red roses

climbing up the trellis

of infamy

into the complexities

of languid night

their callous thorns

prickly and unhinged

their petals taunt and

.

share disinclination,

I am the artist, the painter

of cruel life

my words aim to sooth

the roses in mid symphony

I speak for the broken hearts

throughout the ages, blood

red roses given

love unrequited, their thorns

penetrating raw emotion and

piercing flesh

I am the dream relinquished,

the roses grow overwhelming

and cover what remains.