Two soft autumn roses…pink…

sway in the morning mist.
Their gentle beauty…
self contained in peace,
Does not console
my inner screams.…

Their grace and their allure
just fades before my eyes…

It is this awful gnawing
in the gut..
The deeply bruised
and leaden heart’s
asleep to all that speaks of hope..

The thorns
have turned on me.
And from the opened vein
Life’s leeches drain…
all but anxiety.

Two Roses….sweetly pink.
My sickly leaden eyes
just cannot see it.

Kristine Byrne. 14th Sept. 2020