Waiting For Brooke

by BlueJay   Nov 4, 2015

She tattooed a rose around her hips
with petals reaching up and blooming
above her breast. . .

People called her a thorn and liked to say
that she drank blood from the veins of
last night's lover for breakfast. They
pressed her petals between the soles 
of their shoes and early morning dew

thinking she was just another flower.
Beauty wasted on no one special.

The stamen whispers goodbye
while the pistol screams a name
that belonged to a heart
she's never really known.

Every guy in town has seen the tattoo
they tell us there's more trailing
her curves, begging for kisses
or maybe just a little more love in general.

Someday, they'll all know

the truth behind the tattoo.


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments

  • 2 years ago

    by Dagmar Wilson

    A rose to me is the queen of all flowers and her beauty is breathtaking. Them thorns however will and do damage when the least expected. Beautiful write. add to my favorite