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A wilted rose


in the dead of winter
frozen dreams lie buried beneath a blanket of snow
blue, seemingly dead
still sorrow is seeping through, unseen
a wilted rose will not live to see spring
and as I walk barefoot over its snow covered thorns
my blood flourishes
where new dreams will grow

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I've endlessly searched for dreams. Night after night. Sleepless between these crumbling walls. I've hunted the moon with my eyes. Watching it wane as if taunting our memory. In the afterglow of our love I have become lost. Now as the moon is new, I know I have failed.