Beneath the wilted roses, I seem a fragrance too many. Too often left upon my bones To drink of something else sweet. Your absence has buried my heart, Left me full of the dark. You loosened me, then dropped me Like the infant upon his neck. I felt the summer come too close, For winter to take its place. These petals have holes, Like what decorates my heart, Like what decorates my home Left in the driving rain Of tears that mourn a great emptiness, Enlivened only by the memory of you.