Photo by Pixabay
A yellow rose falls to the ground and delicate petals scatter.
I know you can hear me. I know you can see me. I know with each passing day that you are walling yourself in a distant house on a hill, and you are drawing the heavy drapes closed.
I wait at the iron gate. It's crowded thick with overgrown rose bushes that have been ignored far too long.
A thorn catches my t-shirt and blood is drawn. I cannot cry; the silence and indifference will become crushing.
We used to live together. But now you have shut. me. out.
(Originally published 2018/05/26 at 9:43 pm)
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