The rose's grew thorns
deep in my heart,
leaving wounds.

Fear choked my roots,
as my rose's wither
and rot.

Within the shadows of
my dreams lives the ghosts
of perfumed memories of you.

It grew teeth and black,
it grabs me as I fall asleep.

You're memories are monstrous
and causes anxiety to pool
inside of me, as I feel like
I am drowning within its
emotional tides.

There you left me to die,
teasing me with outreached
arms but you gave me nothing
but smoke.

I am withered from the
storm of you beating
and weathering my heart
like shivering leaf's
in winter, I am left
in the cold.

You're a gaping wound
in my side, a thorn that
keeps stabbing me.

You are PTSD.

©️ 2023 By Amanda Shelton