Thorns and roses

The tears you cried,I collect in a vase with withered roses.

The sunlight crashes into our room

Illuminating the love we once shared.

The garden lies empty awaiting a dark cloud to bring back the fruit we hungered for.

I can still taste the bitter soil you walked upon,buried deep inside my mind.

Your picture hangs alone,framed by a shadowed hand,awaiting for me to pull you back into my feeble arms.

My bones creak,like your footsteps walking into my room,leaving a scent of your crimson lips.

A kiss goodbye,never to return,carried by the cold wind,that blows your perfect locks as you run barefoot on the thorns I planted in my heart.

An open wound,now sealed with a blood stained stem I hold as I dream.