Thorn in her side

She drifted in and out of view

passing from gossamer to stone,

floating and then, sinking down low,

singing the words you wrote for her,

the sound now a sick cacophony

mocking your emotions,

stabbing at your heart.

Holding the now faded rose

that you had pinned in her hair,

but truly, a thorn in her side

had been your gift to her,

the beautiful bloom

was invisible to those eyes,

and the wilting leaves

cried for a love that had died.

 

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