Tristan Robert Lange

Tainted Rose

Your beauty,

Once radiant white—

Budding, serene,

Pure—

Displayed openness,

A readiness to drink

In the evening dew.

And you did—

You drank it,

Absorbed it into you—

But then stopped.

You became tainted

With bitter blight,

Bringing cold, harsh

Winds in the night.

Your petals—

At first blushing

Seeming mature—

Were rusting

Rubicund rancor

Into our bower

Of baptized bones.

One-by-one they fell,

Petals like feathers

Weighted by fate,

Now burnt charcoal,

Razed rot relinquished—

Fallen—forever forgotten,

Loveliness lost

In a premature winter.

Thorns are all that remain.

© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.

First published on tristanrobertlange.com, October 4, 2025.

Tittu