Stephanie Bennett-Henry – Flowers and thorns
You only wanted my petals, so I ripped each one out like feathers that never were good at flying anyway. Tore each out by the root, exposed only skin, raw with thorns like a Sky too dark to see any stars; I gave you my scars. You looked straight in without flinching, held me like the beauty of my heart and soul was enough, because you always said it was more than enough. But the fog lifted, the sun came out like truth trying to scorn me, and I still feel the burn of sparks landing softly like lies giving birth, to prepare for the explosion of how you ran away. Hands filled with petals dropped, each one behind you to leave a trail as a reminder of where the thorns crossed your path once, ripped through the beauty, turned your hands ugly, left me filthy. I used to shame…
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