Exposed

Exposed

by the prick of the thorn, of the rose.

Droplets bleeding
as my awareness arose,
to the deception and trick.

You reached for the stick,
my eyes did see
clearly as the nose on my face.

My distaste
hastened the fall from grace.


Turning to walk away
quickened pace
for now, we can not share the same space
as before.

Behind me I hear the click, of the closed door
walking surefooted, ever onward to the next shore
gratefully changed evermore.