Flowers

Love always ends too soon
corrupting lies with truth
and I'm trying to dress words
in floral print and lace,
but dainty thorned roses
bleed heartache's fate

Poetic verses
lay pathetically unrhymed,
reddened,
and saturated
with the stench of flowers
exuding idiotic pain

Blossoms smell sweet in unison,
but pale all alone

And when tears are refused
we kill innocent beauty;
delicate petals shrivel
into a mess of forgotten hope,
root bounding our broken hearts
denying internal growth
and when we decide our soil
deserves proper nourishment,
I'm afraid
we've already concreted the pot