Literature
Rose Petal Tear Drops
With the petals of a rose around my feet, I dig my toes into its squishy stalk and twist my heels upon its corpse until the sticky, green pulp finds home on my skin and turns my bloody feet a pretty brown to match the dirt under my fingernails. Stooping down, I step away from my victim and gently caress its shell. This is my last comfort to the rose, to the garden whose soil I have turned and kicked and thrown to make graves for the bridges I have burned. I dig my rose’s cavity and lay it down to rest, covering the stem with mud so that only its naked insides peak out at a devastated world. This is my reminder: I was here. Here, I grew
