I was going through some of my old papers and found this poem I wrote years ago after reading Nathaniel Hawthorne’s short story, Rappaccini’s Daughter. Hawthorne was a favorite author of mine when I was studying English in college. I forgot how much I enjoyed reading short stories and being inspired to write myself back when I was in school. It makes me look forward to grad school even more.

The roses you sent me have withered;
they now hang weeping over the edge
of the vase, the velvet petals
drop like blood onto the table
onto the floor…
I loved them.
Will you send me more–don’t
bring them yourself,
for I long for your touch,
something more than a glimpse,
and I would have you die in my arms
with only a kiss. I am cursed
and our moments together would be
fleeting.
Love me, but don’t
get too close,
for I am tainted by my endowment:
my whole nature is poison,
and the only antidote
is death.