Home » Poetry » Stiletto



He does not realize
how deep words can cut
a fragile flower’s bloom
until he’s said too much
inflicting mental wounds.

He does not realize
as he wields their weight
with thoughtless reckless haste
leaving a frazzled mental state
and an acrid bitter taste.


And when the bloom
is finally felled
laid bare upon the floor
All that’s left- her sweet smell
He does not realize
…..what he has lost.


©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg


My response to Poets United Midweek Motif: Weapon and linked to dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night.


41 thoughts on “Stiletto

  1. Good golly, girl. This is amazing!!! There isn’t a woman in the world who hasn’t been that flower at least once. That probably makes for better poetry (than I’ll ever write) — making it so relatable.

    Liked by 2 people

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