woke up this morning to a mascara stained pillow case
realized that my eyes bled through the night
as i began to recollect the details of our last conversation
all i heard was my heart cry and scream for some sort of salvation
he once compared our love to that of a red rose
the life the beauty the purity the innocence of a blossomed flower
the hope that it embodied the happiness that it foreshadowed
but he failed to mention that every rose has its season
and with the end of each season came a death
our love was a special case though
it didnt just die out, we held on as tightly as we could
till will strangled our rose
the pain caused a struggle that we could no longer fight
our rose bled till it could no longer exist
the manifestation of our love leaked into the sink
as we looked away because watching its blood our love float away
would bring nothing but despair
1 comment:
NIce one!
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