The rose between my palms

As I lie on my bed,
Feeling the harsh wire dig into my skin
I place a single red rose between my palms,
Picturing a magnificent display of flowers,
Beneath my cold feet.

I picture the tears I can not shed,
Pouring out of my family's eyes
A casket surrounding my still body
The blood upon my heart washed with oil
The bruises, purple and green,
Dusted with foundation.

My ex lover calling out my name
Wilting the rose with his harsh grasp
Shadowing the flowers around his feet-
A daisy, turning a foul green.

I shift around my lumpy mattress
Sighing, my unfortunate hopes
I stroke the rose between my palms
Whispering a tune; harsh and beautiful,
The death of my heart.