Everything Buried

I am the rose that grew from concrete

Wilting after being stepped on by lovers

Who promised to be gentle

Believing they came to breathe in my fragrance

To pluck me from misery

And carry me home

Watered in the most breathtaking vase

And admired for ages

Assumption was the thorn I used to hurt myself

My bones ached shaking like petals

My legs snapped with every step

My colors changed with the seasons

Of their interest in me

Nevertheless, they were my home

LA winter was colder when holding their hearts

They kissed me feverishly, as to plant love’s seed

But not everything that’s buried

Grows

GAYTIMES • ISSUE 502

Photography: Ryan Pfluger

Fashion: Lateef Abdullah

Poem: R.K. Russell

AVAILABLE WORLDWIDE: gaytimes.co.uk/buy

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