I had a grip.
A naked palm clenched
around,
I had a handle on the thing
softly carrying it with me,
until I noticed
the odd itch of thick blood
sliding down and out
between my fingers.
Holding on too tight
but feeling nothing
of pain or wounds
after barely
holding on so long,
I observed myself
doing it wrong.
After all-
the petals had fallen
behind me
leaving
choices made for me.
No blessings to count,
no scent
to take in-
and it must have been dead
who knows how long...
Dried and brittle
piercing-
This is
how I knew
He loved me not.
Painting by Carolus-Duran, 'Portrait of Lucy Lee Robbins' by Carolus Duran, dated 1884 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
