Roses and Weeds

He plucked me from the world as if I was a simple, blossoming rose,
and every letter that fell from my tender lips his ears had already heard.
He despised the way my heartbeat reverberated throughout my chest in an off-tune symphony,
and the way my eyes stared breathlessly at every corner of the world as if it'd never been seen.
He tried painting over the unsettling contrast of my lily white skin against my blackened, scarred knees,
from the everlasting chase after beautiful, unattainable dreams.

He longed for an elegant rose to prune,
but he knew
the way I moved
the way I touched
the way I breathed
was not the way of an ordinary rose, but an extraordinary weed.

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

You write so beautifully...Bravo.......................