The Rose doesn’t know how it came to this

It lies discarded, glowering in quiet umbrage

It came to lend its flush to warm cheeks

Not to bear witness to such outrage


The Wine bristles begrudgingly, wondering how this came to pass

Showering the carpet in sullen drips; rudely evicted from its fancy glass

It was invited to dinner to quell inhibitions and stoke gay abandon,

A task that now lies so completely undone


The Music still murmurs its soft strains,

Undaunted by this ugly turn of play,

That has left it without hearts to fill

Or Lovers to softly sway


The Candle flickers and fumes nervously

Unsettled by the rash goings-on,

Wondering when the romance that basked in its soft glow

Made a hasty exit, taking peace in its tow


The expensive China litters the carpeted floor,

Broken and seeking redress,

Scattered in as many pieces,

As the Love it sought to impress


The Knife shudders in silent reproach

As the gush of blood bathes its blade,

After all, it came to slice an Anniversary cake

Not to be fatally lodged in a Lover’s throat instead.


3 thoughts on “Anthropomorphism

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