Roses


I buried a memory; it's coming up roses
The same shade as your glasses when you look at me
Your left lens is broken but you said I'm still pretty
I said I want to go to the cemetery alone
I want to brush my fingertips against limestone and
make friends amongst the dirt
You tuck my hair behind my ear and laugh
You don't like to listen when my words grow melancholy
So you turn up the TV and it's so cold, I swear I can
see my breath
You told me you'd confiscate the mirrors if I kept
complaining
So I buttoned my lips and threw the key in the garden
You told me to smile more, so I practiced in the
mirrors you almost took away
I always cut corners on narrow paths
Tripping over the roots of my childhood
One day I'll walk the green grass during the bloom of
my green existence and find redemption
For now, I'll look for that key, gold beneath the black
I was right after all
I can see my breath

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