Faded Rose Sheet

She loves him like an old rose

Thorns painted with his blood

Petals shuttered from the glare

Leaves crackling on the stove

Sepia toned wedding bouquet

Framed on a meat locker hook

Blossoms for a faceless man

Pollen dipped sheets at noon

But wilted in a cracked vase

No more perfumed dresser

Dead rose and a boutonniere

A rose spent for the kindling

Dull thorns in his faded sheets

She loves him, she loves him not

A cool temptress left in his vase

Maybe he should be a faceless man

And pluck her from the soil green

Give her a sun to kiss once more

Just a little pretty in his hand

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

4 thoughts on “Faded Rose Sheet

    1. Thank you for the observation. Faded love can become a creepy, wilted thing, like the solitary rose in a cracked vase that actually takes color away from the room rather than adding color to it. Like changing sheets, or pouring in new water every day into a vase of old, dead roses, the routines may seem like conventional bliss on the surface, but there is the scratch of sad gray if we look closely enough.

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      1. Takes color away from the room rather than adding color to it… I’ve never seen or even listened something like that but I can imagine it now and it reminds me of when I use to hairspray my bouquets my high school boyfriend would gift to me. I’d want to capture their essence in time and watch them freeze.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Capturing beauty in time is like cupping a stream in our hand. We can hold it there for some time, but even if we never spill it the water eventually will be absorbed into our flesh. Similarly, the beauty evaporates, even when cupped in time, but is absorbed by the soul and comes alive in our imagination.

        Liked by 1 person

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