Dear Rosaline,
Forgive me.
As much as I would love
to believe that I
could lay down my life for
You, it still would not be worth
the weight on your shoulders
that comes with being crowned
into a dying world.
The heart of man
is nothing like a mother’s womb.
It may be flesh but it will never bleed for you.
It will never stretch to make room for you.
It will never keep you safe.
I could never keep you safe.
5 thoughts on "Dear Rosaline,"
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This is stunning– the weight on yoru shoulders that comes with being crowned into a dying world, the heart of man is nothing like a mother’s womb…
Thank u so much!!!
You cooked, served, ate, and left no crumbs
The effect of this poem is like shuddering… like sobbing. I’m gut punched
Raw.