“Sweet blooms nestled into the throbbing veins, that suicidal feeling sweeps through your chest like the numbing effect of the pain medication. Lips puff and bruise as roses derive their sweet scent from your perfumed flesh. To the gardens you go, where thorns crave your tears and the jerk of your limbs.
It doesn’t have to be this way.”
Prompt: Week 18; Roses Blooming in Your Lungs










