4/12/2021 BeautifulA prose poem by Mackenzie Goshorn Red rose on a green bush. Hanging over the brick wall. Thorns sharp. The petals, soft and delicate, as though they wanted to be picked and kept. Sweet, lovely smell. I picked it and ran, like a thief in the night time as though I was stealing diamonds. The pattern, mesmerizing, catching my attention. Dark blood-red rose, daring myself to burn it. It bursts into flames. The orange flames stand out in the night sky. The petals wilting away, turning to flaky ashes and fine, gray powder. The thorns blacken and shrivel, leaving the stem black but whole. Dark smoke floating upwards, making it hard to breathe, making space feel like it might suffocate you. Mesmerizing: as the flame dies, I am left with an ugly stem, still feeling as though it is just as beautiful as it was before.
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