Rose

The vase is frosted,

Crystallized as if formed that way,

Hewn perfect from the rock.

Liquidy embraces

Swirl through its sheen,

Its shelter rocked

By the shattering suddenness

Of breathing.

A few cracks

Can be painted over,

Though the leaks

Have sprung

And cannot be repaired

By wishes

And fake promises believed.

In it, a flower lone

Stands watch

With petals unclosed and drooping,

Red once

Though dimmed

Within this room.

The petals torn

And flung from her

With a force

Likened once

To violence.