She stood next to the mantle
her hair was dark, that's all I noticed.
She said some things to me,
I was afraid.
I dreamt her.
When I woke up she wasn't there,
but when I fell asleep, she was there.
Waiting.
A ghost.
The one she heard when leaving.
Well, pretty little girl,
Go away. Leave us alone. Stay warm elsewhere, please.
Next time I don't want to be forgiving.

in ruins
yet there will be no confession
lest a scythe be heard
scraping

Wilted rose rotting in the garden
Winters approaching the ground has hardened

It’s cold and wet and the wilted rose
stands bent over in a lazy pose

Her petals have turned dark and brown rotting, in that garden ground

That wilted rose is all alone
hunched by little garden stone

No one thinks that rose is pretty
Stands bent over in the city

All the cars go past the rose
Watching it as it doesn’t grow

Petal falling out a day at a time
Wondering if that rose could have been mine

is heaven the rainbow
and hell the rain
for when I love the heaven
i fall for hell.