Roses

Alyssa Bowen

He said in sickness and in health
Society decreed this aspect of morality
On Wednesday, the wind blew and the ice didn’t melt away
My hands became as dry as paper
He kissed them anyway
Thursday I waltzed down a cross-walk,
my hands so frozen and cracked I could no longer feel my phone
It careened out of my hands and into the road
I reached down and blinding lights crashed into me
Friday, I crossed into another world
I woke up to the sight of roses somewhere,
in a hospital, in the city
The wind blew a letter from its perch amongst the flowers
It fluttered as I reached out for it and clasped it
My hands crunched under the weight of the paper
“I didn’t sign up for this” it read
Signed sincerely yours,
Duality

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