The Golden Rose

He gave me a golden seed,

That he stole from King Midas's garden,

just for me.

I planted it in my heart,

It grew.

One golden winding vine,

With thorns that pricked painfully,

It wrapped around my heart,

tightly.

Every time I moved,

It reminded me of him with a painful prick.

I began to long for him, 

I loved him and it,

but at the same time, despised them both.

I began to stop moving,

For fear of more pain and longing.

Then he came again,

With her.

The golden thorns now pricked with betrayal.

He took the golden bloom off of my vine,

And presented it to her,

His treacherous smile winning her heart.

I still have that golden vine,

And it has bloomed again,

But I don't want to give it away,

For fear of my scars,

Being reopened.

He is gone.

Forever.

Without me.

Author's Note

I have no Idea what inspired this poem, ... so ... just review.

Reviews

[AWickedMoon]

So beautiful!

[Calibaster]

Thank you.

[CHRIS ANDES]

great description of betrayal
=]

[Calibaster]

no kidding! It's never happened to me, so, I had to use my imagination a little.
Thanks.

[Dearantlers]

Wow Alverrann! That is so unlike you. No rhyming, and a love story! I like it though. It also has a different rythm than most of your poems, which is different, but pretty darn awesome! Good job!!!!!