A Bed Of Roses Has Thorns

A bed of roses has thorns,
their sharp stinging
tearing the heart.

Perfect love an illusion
created by the starry eyed.
Reality has flaws.

Romance sings its love song
until forever is tested
with the arrival of disagreement.

Like combatants on a battlefield
lovers shoot their verbal ammunition
seeking to draw first blood.

You did. You didn’t.
You will. You won’t.
Grenades tossed to wound.

The heart becomes
a casualty of war,
bloodied, scarred, defeated.

A battle with no victors.
This war must end
with a peace accord agreeing
both lay down their weapons.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2011