Bruised

The garden gate swung open,
my emotions raged and roared.
I felt my passion falter,
the flowers bruised and tired.

My emotions raged and roared,
then whimpered and died.
Your familiar touch felt cold.

I felt my passion falter,
my faith in your sunlight
buried in the rain soaked mire.

The flowers – bruised and tired-
can be pruned and tied.
But what if roots have died?

Prompts: Poetic Bloomings for the form (trimeric) and Three Word Wednesday for the words – emotion, falter and touch.

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