(no subject)
A shadow flitting across the graveyard--
A rich, soft rose with bleeding, dying petals,
Falls softly against the desolate ground.
A tear falls, into this silence it meddles.
Crystal blue eyes, hollow and dead,
Cold shards of frozen ice slowly dripping,
Falling untainted onto the bleeding petals,
Loose romanticized versions of reality slipping.
A fragile soul made of cracked glass,
Barely held together by the promise of a blade,
Once again she cries for help in a sea of blood,
Trapped in the lie she once made.
Smooth, pale hands brush the tips of the rose,
Shaking gently as another petal falls,
Soft fingers catch on a jagged thorn,
Damn, what now, when there's no-one to call?
Through clouded tears, a solemn ghost stands,
Frowning at her, wondering at her broken beauty,
Her cold eyes turn upon him, leaking with tears,
With a tortured soul he thinks, "All this, because of me?"
Hoarse words break from a blood-red, barely moving lips,
"It's you, you're back, it's your love to which I'm a slave..."
One lone, blackened petal stays on the rose and she continues--
"I have waited, waited here, alone, on this withered grave."
The lover's image evanesces gently with a smile,
She lies once again, alone, with dry eyes,
Staring at the sea of bleeding petals,
The pain flares but no longer can she cry.
Love buried in the battle-worn heart--but it breaks,
Numbness entails as she continues to pay,
Sins were forgotten and pain fades as a single, black petal falls,
Now lifeless, cold, and fragile, she stays on his grave.
The grave that once
was his own...
Now with blood-red roses,
belong to the girl unknown.