Anemic Devotion

Crimson roses

stand

in a vase,

wilting

like

my heart

and my face.

Slowly,

they loose

their

rich pigment

and fade;

petals fall

to the table

like the tears

that

I’ve shed.

A token,

and gesture;

he goes

through

the motions.

His heart’s

far

from me

and

void

of

emotion.

Soon,

I’ll

admit there’s no

love left to give,

and we’ll part,

hearts and lips,

in our

bloodless,

last kiss.