Blemish

Early morning stillness

The rusted out dumpster

Behind the local grocery

Holds the promises of love

The tap tap of rain on cellophane 
Really mourning illness

The busted-out lackluster 

Remind with vocal sorcery

Old is the ominous ‘enough’

The apt rap of reign on ball and chain
A few black spots

And couple dropped petals

Instead of clutched to breast

You rot giving no pleasure

The picking and pruning’s love’s lost labor
A view lacks plots

A decoupled, cropped unsettles

It’s dead if touched to behest

You wrought gifting no leisure 

The licking and preening sloughs last savior
Take these discarded roses

They’re not perfect

These second chance tokens

No one is perfect 

And we all deserve a second chance.