The fix

I am my own nightly fix, 
Holding my arms 
With my personal set of claws.
Two beds of bleeding roses, 

I have planted 
Before the wake, and
They are visibly red.

Each petal a coruscation printed—
An apparent reminder 
Of an experience imperfect 
Or a failed enumeration. 

I will call to their names 
All over again
At the next cross, 

At the mercy of the dark,
Betraying an armistice—
Leaving the proof of enmity
My personal marks of flame.

Dale Chou
2012-06-14