The Beauty of a Dead Rose

[Artemis LaChrone]

The rose petals fell, on that fateful day.
They kissed the ground before fading away.
One by one they all started to fall,
Until there were no petals left at all.
All that was left, was the broken stem,
The now raw thorns; No one touched them.

Drops began to fall, but not from the skies,
They began to pour from my very own eyes.
They glided down my cheeks, now shining red.
They watered the rose, but it was already dead.

With the rose in my palm, blood trickled down.
The rose’s teeth bit my skin, all the green, was now brown.
The silence was killing me, the lonliness too.
How could I ever leave this rose and you.
I held the rose tighter, still feeling the bite.
I held back my screams with all of my might.

Drops began to fall, but not from the skies,
They began to pour from my very own eyes.
They glided down my cheeks, now shining red.
They watered the rose, but it was already dead.

I could still hear the voices, the calls in my mind.
But I already knew that there wasn’t much time.
I looked at the rose, life drained from its veins.
I could still see its beauty, and feel all its pain.
I left from the grave but I didn’t go home.
Alone with my rose, forever I would roam.