thorns, roses, and falling stars
A wilted rose, strung over a dagger,
I solemnly watched the petals fall.
Don’t think, for a moment, I didn’t see it,
I saw the crimson writing on the wall.
You waited, quietly, for perfect,
the moment from lingering dreams.
But as you got down on one knee,
you saw the look of broken regimes.
I shook my head, stars crashing around us,
waves decimated the shore line.
But where was all the blood coming from,
Impossible to tell, your heart or mine?
I took the rose, you felt the thorns,
embedded in our diverging hearts.
The ringing of the world, loud in my ears
They said, as we scavenged for the lost parts, :
She could have had it all,
If she didn’t chase the dream in her head.
She could have played the part,
rather than blood only tears to shed.
under a summers day,
the pale moon in the velvet sky,
you approached my darkened smile,
and quietly asked me why?
I said, I could have seen it all.
Our life, from now til death.
It was so easy to picture,
and simple, like my breath.
There was no great unknown,
rather a white serpent of a dress,
it would have been unbearably mundane,
if I, like a quiet rose, had whispered yes.
but that was the biggest problem,
That I saw the life you called our own,
but darling, I want the grand adventure.
and I am only scared of the known.