Goodbye Grew Among Black Roses


I thought dying would
be less pain than lying
in your bed of black roses.

Your words cradled in dry petals
weaved a spell that kept me
bound in this house of flames.

I felt the thorns of your scorn
pierce all I believed until
I couldn’t carry another scar.

Desperate to be me
I carved a tiny spot in life
where I was free to bleed.

Goodbye grew deep roots
until I was strong enough
to speak the words.

With you gone this house
is now a home free of the
thorning of black roses.

©Susie Clevenger 2014


Comments

Sherry Blue Sky said…
Susie, this is a wonderful, brave and strong poem, the assertion of self. It resonates for me, having traveled the same pathway. I love the title. I remember the thorns in those black roses. Wonderfully written.
Kathryn Dyche said…
Wow, a new favorite for me. So strong, powerful and deep.
Kerry O'Connor said…
Such an excellent metaphoric comparison, Susie - one for the dark days.

This stanza really struck me:

Goodbye grew deep roots
until I was strong enough
to speak the words.
- See more at: http://confessionsofalaundrygoddess.blogspot.com/2014/05/goodbye-grew-among-black-roses.html#sthash.2pkgOB5D.dpuf
avalon said…
You weave a dark spell until one realizes it is all over and the darkness has lifted. Very accomplished.
Sherry Blue Sky said…
Loved it just as much today, Susie....beautifully done.
Marian said…
and that tiny spot grows bigger and stronger. love this, Susie, a quiet anthem.
probably a tough one for someone to read that have experienced the
'thorning of black roses' let alone to write. i hope it was as cathartic as it seemingly reads to me.

congrats and gracias Susie Clevenger
Vandana Sharma said…
very nice take on a touching issue.
hedgewitch said…
".. I carved a tiny spot in life
where I was free to bleed..." you know I've been there, and everywhere this poem travels, Susie--I'm glad you found the strength to be yourself.
Truedessa said…
This was beautifully constructed..I could feel the piercing thorns of darkness.
Anonymous said…
Roses, no matter the colour, always have thorns and all that goes with it. Your poem shows the impact I like the way You wrrote that "goodbye grew,"