Rose Heart

My withering rose heart reeks,
the heartbeats prick me like thorns.

Poets like me,
personify the reds, pinks, whites
and add life to a morbid demise.

I raise my muse to a pedestal,
glorify fireflies & belittle the sky.

I am becoming like every flower:
fragrant & splendid,
carefully chosen in full bloom
but only to be placed on the death-bed.

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Image Source : Pixabay

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