The symbol of your love, deepest red.
Forever etched in the rhythm of my heart.
A pulsating stigmata, a constant reminder,
burning my senses now that we are apart.
'It is better to have loved and lost', they say.
Do they know how you pentrated my core?
Making me a some one not just a nothing,
only to be left bleeding from every pore.
The rose now a symbol of sheer poison,
deepest red turning to shades of blue.
Like me no longer perfect or whole,
but acidicly twisted by the loss of you.
Senses are shrivelling in unchartered directions,
acrid emotions claiming possession of my soul.
Lost in confusion, drowning in love's memories,
don't offer sympathy, I am impossible to console.
The entitiy of black darkness is the rose,
surrounding my being, bitterness pierces me.
The rose is love turned to ravaging hatred,
the poison within thorns set my demon free.
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