Rose-Petal Embers

Her fingers thread through the thistle’s mist

as her eyes graze his jawline, pulling up into a grimace.

The thistle whispers as she flutters her fingertips across the spiky blooms.

For Rose, petals have retired; all that is left is the dead center of a

passionate popping fire; fizzling like a broken firecracker.

Her embers are strewn amongst the aching stems along their path; crackling heat.

His impatient numb toes leave prints of her death to repeat, repeat, repeat.

She strides beside him now, a specter in an earthly memory

while birds titter one last breathless tweet.

Crows kick off from branches high above as the cornflower sky

opens its maw and swallows the retreating black beings.

The thistle pierces through her permeable skin as his body melts away softly, falling

into ash at her side.

*Photo by "bogdanici" on DeviantArt*