Note: People always tell me I am “so goth.” I’m not really goth. I sure don’t look goth. I do wear a lot of black and dark clothing though. But, that’ more for practicality than statement. Do you know what coffee and pen stains and chocolate do to a pink or white shirt? I do, which is why I don’t wear them.  My musical taste on the other hand falls under the genre of goth. I’m a child of the 80’s what do you expect. I was listening to The Cure, Duran Duran, Depeche Mode and Bauhaus during those very important “informative years”.  Huh? So. I guess I am a smidgen goth. Nothing wrong with that.  Now enjoy the poem below as I go off to read The Bell Jar.

 

A Single Black Rose

There is beauty in a black rose
not seen by the naked eye.
A unique strangeness
felt by the heart.

It radiates
only in the night
like a lonely firefly.

It’s existence proves only one thing:
there is beauty even in darkness.

The day cannot comprehend
its mysteriousness.

It confuses,
as does the wind,
swirling dry leaves
around you
as you walk.

It baffles,
as does
the meaning of life,
anyone,

who may encounter it.

 

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