Tainted Rose

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Your beauty,
Once radiant white—
Budding, serene,

Pure—

Displayed openness,
A readiness to drink
In the evening dew.

And you did—
You drank it,
Absorbed it into you—
But then stopped.

You became tainted
With bitter blight,
Bringing cold, harsh
Winds in the night.

Your petals—
At first blushing
Seeming mature—
Were rusting
Rubicund rancor
Into our bower
Of baptized bones.

One-by-one they fell,
Petals like feathers
Weighted by fate,

Now burnt charcoal,
Razed rot relinquished—
Fallen—forever forgotten,
Loveliness lost
In a premature winter.

Thorns are all that remain.

© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.

Tittu