Heartache

By Abigail Ransegnola

Roses are red, 

or so they say. 

But what if they were not? 

What if they were white as snow, 

and were cold to the touch?

Like frostbite, thorns break skin

and bring warmth to the flower that 

is considered romantic.

The romantic they consider love

blossoms from the drops of 

warm blood. 

These drops, oh so elegant as they splatter, 

stain the petals red

as the heart shatters. 

Unable to fade, 

the flower of love

now speaks a different meaning: 

Heartache.

By Abigail Ransegnola