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Anti-Love Poem
February 17, 2011
I break down at your door
Begging for an answer
You drop a rose upon me
The thorns cut me and scar my hands
I beg you stop
You cut me deeper
Slashing at me with the rose
The pain grows worse
The thorns, now, have slashed my hands
I can do nothing
They are stripped to shreds
Bloody pulp falling off pure white bone
Petals collapsing beside my skin
The thorns begin cutting into bone
Carving your name
The thorns attack my chest
Claw through my ribs
Rip out my heart.
I beg for more.
© Cara L., Cheney, WA
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