dead sea

you say you

love the water but I am

tired of crying you

oceans so you can

stay in love


the apathy of flower picking

this summer I

watched the way you kept

picking roses and pricking

your fingers

on the thorns and

my arms held themselves

open for the tears you

shed but now


am the one

picking roses and pricking

my fingers and through my

tears I see

your arms crossed

in front of you.