Sour Grapes
Speak not to me of infatuation
of giddiness in glorified array
dark petals of the rose in weeping fall
blood red to shriveled black in slow decay
Speak not the words that “time will heal all wounds”
Leave me for I shall fade as petals do
never to know renewal of blooms blush
condemned to a forever love of you
Soft whispers of awakening deceive
love’s heart with crimson tint upon the black
tend the simmering spark that would ignite
a flame to realign a passion’s lack
Speak not to me of infatuation
While I’m consumed in its conflagration
©9/5/2018
for Sour Grapes Poetry Contest
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