Eyes rose tinted delusions that stem on the everyday,
liquid figments smile on her minds exhaling breath
of what is contaminated texts of what her sight read.

She digs in the garden to bury her pain, the leafs are
falling on her memory as she fills in the graves of so
many that were never real just empty caskets of thought.

Her world was of roses that sat on the window fresh
with eager pleasing to the eye. But it was withered and
decayed as were her expectations of mundane  life.

She was temptation upon her self, lingering on past
appearances that had faded like seasons. Hers was that
time when everything wilted, denial tinted in eyes everyday.