Death Of A Rose Poem by Kim Schilling

Dried
red rose,
the cutting
and sad wilted
reminder of your
cruel broken promise to
respect our love and wait here.
Now death fills up my tattered heart,
as the choking smell of the rose seethes
like a corpse rotting in an unmarked grave.
Misplaced, alone and confused in anger,
I lay upon the freshly tilled dirt,
longing to smell you once again.
Soil and petals slip between
my dry brittle fingers
and mascara runs.
Dead long ago,
my one rose
laid to
rest.