blackened petals like blood across the grass

there is a snake
coiled in the branches
of the rose bush
lulled to sleep by
the heady fragrance
as it rests amongst
the prickly thorns
a serpentine heart
in the center of beauty
listless in the cold
as the blossoms wilt
blackened petals
blowing over brown grass
a penitent aching
sweeps the hollow womb
as repentance becomes
another faded memory
etched upon the scales
covered by the first frost
in the impending embrace
of winter’s callous disdain

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