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The Rose Between Life and Death

The Rose Who Had Fallen for Life and Death

By Sara ThorntonPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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A rose known by any other name would still smell just as sweet

They love me, that I know to be true

It just hurts to know that I love them too

It’s not the fact that I love them that hurts me

But more of the tragedies that have befallen me

I have been hurt, betrayed, and stabbed

By those who told me they’d never go bad

They promised me that they would stay

That no matter what, they’d do me no pain

I shut myself away from the world of love

No longer wanting to feel stung

They came along, looking over my walls

Seeing not the monster I had become

They talked with me, offering me smiles

It was almost as if they hadn’t noticed I was defiled

With their hands that I noticed had been covered with blood

They removed the tears that flowed like the Nile

The first one had been a doctor

A medical history that was uncommon

His eyes were cold yet warmed my soul

I would never deny how I loved his smile

The second was a killer

Bloodshed being all that he knew

His rough hands holding mine in a soft cocoon

Like he was to me, I was something new

They both came to me with soft intention

They did not wish to add to my affliction

Though unsure, I gave them a chance

I would gladly do it again

My garden, for them, was a place of salvation

I opened my arms to give them rest

The world on the outside of my walls

They deemed it only as a mess

We walked and talked and chortled and sung

For once in my life, nothing was going wrong

love poems
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