Do you imagine the rose like I do? 
Flitting across the stage in green dress and red hairㅡ darker than the rest of them and sharper too
But she certainly manages to keep the eyes of her audience
And her cast mates’ wist

When do you think they’ll notice her costume isn’t 
A costume, but a clue
To an underneath, a tangle of scrapes and scabs
Waiting to ensnare

Of course there’s something different
About imagination and reality

For one a rose’s thorns pierce deeper than you would have expected
And they’re half as pretty, too

You’ll grow wary of the rose, as she flits about
The stage and spins you into
A whirlwind of feelings
Because what is she, if not enticing?

Be wary of the rose, dear
And mind your imagination
Those thorns are more like vines
Threading through the bloodstream

A pierced vein is something you won’t heal easy
If there’s a poison in the prick.

{Kudos to a writer who recently wrote about roses. At least scars inspireㅡ hope you don’t mind me using yours.}

2 thoughts on “Poison in the Prick

  1. Man, you are an amazing writer! It makes me speechless every time I read your work cause its just so well put and the imagery literally draws you into your vision! Honestly, you inspire me so much, you have no idea! Your writing has always been so soaked in meaning and emotions. I cannot believe I am lucky enough to have been able to watch you and your work grow over the years. Also, darn you for making me come out of my sneaky stalking of your page, but it was too good to leave unsaid!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Aww thanks so much, it means a lot coming from you!! And I could say the same to you, I’m super grateful to be part of your writing journey (for lack of a less-pretentious way to put it) and to learn from it too❤️


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