A Rose- I opened myself to you. Not yet deflowered, Only… depowered. Knocked down a few notches To nothingness. A prose- Roping myself to you. Never empowered, Always soured. Locked frowns drowning in Paint swatches of ugliness. Muddiness. I never liked your artwork Anyway. You create to abuse, To use, And to trade. You threw me away… And now your garbage can Is much more glamorous Than your gal is.