“The death of a petal,
Falling from a rose prevails,
Bleeding into the rain,
With what it entails.
Her grip tightens,
Around the sweetest thorns…
It’s spearing out the long stemmed
Cut by those who’ve flown.
You wish she were kissing him,
Dead in his deep shallowness,
A midnight pour.
Seeing he was no longer breathless
For a breath of her…
The sight of her face.
It was clearly in the darkness,
Causing his lungs to have no grace.
Waiting for him to start a beat…
Doesn’t know how.
And the view’s worth all
The pains, knowing she is now
Forever dying too...