Your love was a bouquet of roses,

deep scarlet,

like your proclaimed adoration for me.

 

The storm,

immense with grief,

truly impossible to escape.

 

Each encounter with the reaper himself,

the bouquet seemed to be deeper scarlet still.

 

But upon the rising light hour,

I awaken to feel the excruciating bitterness of ocean water,

bound by the chains of past promises,

farther still I fell into cutting darkness.

 

Foolish as always,

never did I let go of the roses,

as my descent continued,

scarlet slowly faded away into the abyss.

 

The only beacon of light left in the darkness,

the bouquet of now yellow roses,

obvious betrayal,

the roses you painted to fool me,

only became deeper scarlet with my blood.