The blossom of sorrow
Had bloomed in my heart,
And its hard lapis petals
Had all fallen to art,
Had all burned in the unlight
Making ashes for art.

Quietly now,
I am torn from my home,
The one bastion of comfort
That seemed like a home,
And the slumber that sated me
Is now lost in the gloam.

And my pain never rests now
That I am found all alone,
Never grants me the freedom,
To be happy alone,
A pain that longs to remember
When this heart was my own.

My beloved would sing to me
In my dreams as I slept,
But her soprano is drowned now
By the sounds my sobbing;
Her voice was so sweet,
I couldn't stop myself sobbing.

The songs lead me to gardens
Where all the brambles are bent,
Where all the dread brambles
Lie broken and bent,
And the grave of my hopes
Is still shallow as yet

The grave where I buried
The remains of my heart,
After she found it,
And tore it apart,
When I only left her
With the whole of my heart

And I lay on my grave now
All covered in thorns,
The poetry in me,
All dying and dead;
Within the dread brambles,
Thorns veiling my head.

But this azure lyric
With roots in my heart,
Is entwined with the brambles
Always feeding my art

I can vaugely remember
A time spent in the sun,
When I wished to believe
My beloved, the one,
Yet the seeds of the blossom
Were sewn in that sun,
Shining with unlight,
Petals burning as one.