Thorns

It’s like I want to catch you

In an act you’ve never performed 

I analyze your words

Your tone 

I’ll place you in a narrative 

I’ve long outgrown 

The show must go on 

A woman scorned 

Roses laced in natural thorn

It’s wounds drip into wooden boards

until you can’t take it anymore

The sound of ever present dripping

In the dead of night 

You’ll leave me behind 

Realize I’m not worth the work

of mopping blood from the floor.

But that’s not me anymore 

I strive for more 

And landed with you 

You!

You kiss my healing scars

Hand me roses from the grocery store 

Absent of thorns.