Whispers, like secrets,
Chant my name
And I gaze upon the roses—
Who all look the same.
Their stems sway this and that,
Petals crumble and crisp—
Burnt colors—faded and brown
Lost in life—lost the grip
I stare for hours and hours,
And the shadows of the moon
Blanket me in black
As death too, does bloom.
They will lie silently,
Within the rustling leaves
I will follow in winter
For the secrets beckon me.
My blood hits the ground
In a comforting rain
Red petals turn to black
As ashes are strewn and lain
Across a deserted sky
That weeps with solemn despair
As, I, too question the footsteps
Taken toward those chants in the air.
Thorns scratch at my skin—
Memory dances in a red dress
Flirting over and over again—
For Death, I have no contest.
Author notes
Mneh... it's just a metaphor, I think...I don't know. Figure the damn thing out.
Written May 11th, 2005
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Comments
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Thank you, I appreciate it!
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Magnificent!
Magnificent write. I could feel the deep deep feelings coming from you. Keep up the good work. -
LOL Thank you for your comments. I am sure your skill will improve. Just keep working on it. Trust me. Thanks again!
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Wow, I really like this. It was beautiful. It had great imagery. As always, this was amazing. Everything I read by you is. Damn, I wish I had your talent. But alas, I will never be as good as you. lol. Great write.
Always and Forever,
~Kendal
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