The garden grew

Carnations in

Hues of desire,

Roses reeking sin.

In the midst stood

The man, holding red

Freedom, hissing

Noises in his head.

He bites its flesh,

Crisp with ripe power,

A bend in the wind,

Wilting the flowers.

Lost in the fog

Alone in the deep

Bound by a promise

That he couldn’t keep.