by Rory Baskin
it’s one of those paintings
that looks like it’s something from far away
(don’t you dare take a step closer,
don’t risk revealing the perfect mess)
it’s a single rose petal
that begins to wilt the moment it’s plucked
(look closely and remember that we’re all dying
from the instant we’re torn into life)
it’s the red lipstick print on a cloudy sky
invisible to those with contented eyes
(for they don’t see that it’s the gruesome stain
of god bleeding out by remorseful heart)
and it’s why I’m whispering these words,
because if this world comes crumbling down
I’ll fall right along with it
and no one can call it flying
Rory Baskin
Rory Baskin is a high school student in California with a passion for creative writing. Her work is published or forthcoming in Trouvaille Review, Cathartic Literary Magazine, and Petrichor Magazine. She is also an editor for Flare Journal.
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