Saturday, 29 December 2012

The Bleeding Rose

Silk of dawn, rotten black by dusk;
A red rose of the morn, disguises love from lust,
In this cruel world, the rose rots black, grime.
The one that stays red, hold true love prime.
I know I've heard you too bad to compare,
Sweetheart there's a scar I know I can't repair.
Those times of misery, hate and faith that lacked,
I sob, whine now, and wish I could take them back.
There's a hole in your heart left of the bullet that bleeds,
I held the gun sweetie and regret I ignored your pleads.
But this night, I hold a rose, red its beauty adorns,
Don't hesitate to take it, I promise, I removed the thorns.
Rosy red, it holds the blood of the tears you've shed,
I want you to keep it and take it each night to bed.
Of the love, tender caresses and kisses of mine,
To you it will remind.
Because this rose, I bleeded my heart still,
To give it the color red.

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