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For some reason PnP is refusing to work with me at the moment and deleting the word r-o-s-e when I have it all together. So for now, excuse the way the poem starts out.
R-o-s-e-s scattered pitifully
Lying at your feet
Please...pick themn up?
A dozen, half without peddles
The beautiful white and red I chose
To match your spirit.
Yet you threw them,
Lit my soul with proverbial flame
With harsh words.
But I lift my head
And listen to you as you curse
Say mean things
And I just watch
Don't cry
Because it's your pain
And you don't mean to hurt me.
It's just how you express pain.
I don't mind
But while it hurts
I stand there and take it.
Like I took the beatings,
Like I took the rapes,
Like I took the abuse.
But this is different.
Afterwards, unlike them, with tears in your eyes
A raw throat from your loud shouts,
You collapse against me
Sobbing
Clinging
Saying your sorry, that you didn't mean it.
And I smile.
Because for once,
I know you didn't.
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