Desiccated Soul

I’m not a delicate flower,
something you cherish
for all your days.
I’m that black rose,
wilted and withering.
Ugly.
The thing no one wants.
No matter how you look at it,
there’s no fixing
my desiccated soul.

© Sarah Doughty

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23 thoughts on “Desiccated Soul

  1. Ms Sarah….this is beautifully sad. There may be no “fixing”. But a little rearranging and replacing goes a long way. Your writing is stunning. And I appreciate the courage you take to share so openly.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I referred to the comment section after appreciating, I wonder how it didnt click me I had read it twice. Perhaps its because the lines are so simple and flowing.. so I think that’s a cap on your feather Sarah, that people reading it twice, would find it back as new again 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Poignant and evocative words. As an eternal optimist, however, I can’t help but offer that with a bit of nurturing and love, that rose can bloom anew. Thanks for sharing your gift of words, best wishes for an inspired day.

    Liked by 2 people

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