Somewhat the Porch Rose

My red petals wilting inward upon a shivering filament,
The garnishing lavender sticking in my stigma like thorny twigs,
I lie depressed on the cement,
Shrinking sepal pressing in on me, denting my color.
Each stamen sways and flails in the milky frosted gale.

I am somewhat the porch rose
Left alone to the north wind’s cold.
Yet, it is not in me to limp home
Where palling pain subsides to warmth.

No, I will rest here outside your window, 
Soul exposed to the cold of hypothermia
Because living outside your Fahrenheit 
Would lead me to more sudden cotton nose and perniosis.
So I risk my skin tissue’s soft destruction 
And utter mumbled pleas of my red heart’s devotion
Until the sharp tail of Jack comes upon my pistil 
And stills me with the milky frosted gale.