PRIMA ROSA

Its as if I breathe
An alien air
A reject in a jar
A broken object on display.

Even my soul rejects
Tears which fell in July
Searching a mirror
Without thought.

With a solemn step
Sunshine that avoids me
A thousand places which haunt me
But still I wear that smile.

The earliest rose
Wilting in its Latin phrases
Murdered by a cold, cold heart
Which cannot know love.

Words that flicker into silence
From a deep and sorrowed place
Which crowns an eternal sadness
Farewell dear Prima Rosa.