I grasp the stem of the
Black rose you gave me,
Memories flashing throughout
My catatonic mind.
I sit on this stained porch
In hopes I could find
Something beautiful in this
Endless nature; I was wrong.
Your absence puts weight
On an already hung head,
My hand spasms around
That thorn decorated stem.
I winced and dropped it
At once,
Blood trickling down my hand
Onto the wood beneath me.
I watch the bloodied thorns dry,
Red and black, lethal and beautiful,
Another painful reminder
Of how you left me to bleed;
Loneliness consuming a ravaged heart.
