After dropping my bouquet of apology
and twisting her black stiletto against the cellophane wrap
Her eyes now fall narrow
beads of anger, soak her contorted face
10 destroyed red roses
meant to spell, ”I am so sorry”
Violently lie anagrammed
against the black and white lino
My disloyalty to her
is a thorn, repeatedly stabbed in her side
A sting of betrayal,
which no longer she wishes to endure
© Copyright 2016 Philip H20s. All rights reserved.
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