Bloomed From The Dark

Yesterday’s rain lashes, not kisses, my dry, pale lips—

Tears gash paths not of joy, but of freedom’s bitter sting.

I walled myself in loneliness, laid thoughts and soul to rest—

All to cage your love, like a bird in a tomb of my own making.

But death slipped through my fingers; Hades’ claws were stayed

By some cruel curse that forbade me the peace of the deep.

Now I rise from the grave’s cold embrace—a rose with thorns that drink the dark,

And how sharp the beauty of this new dawn:

When I turn my eyes from you,

And see only the shadow that set me free

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