Poetry — A blood red rose
gone raw,
frozen in time
and too cold
to thaw. Wrinkled,
crinkled veins
running along
the petals,
crusted in frost,
puckered
like a bloody,
busted lip. Warped color,
hues of
light pink
and dark,
dastardly purple. Lying
in a patch
of ice-rimmed
grass,
aching for
the love
of memories past…