Stuck inside this
rotting rose,
the petals slowly closing in,
the smell of beauty decomposing...

how I hate the scent.

Deep, thick crimson
devastation crumbles into
a black renaissance,
the birth of its death...

...and of my own too.

Borne out of the
thin, pallid embers
of a winter morn,
you come across
this rotting rose,
and peel away at my
hideous hideaway.

Eyes black,
the neglected color
of my skin and
my red lips--they torture
your very being,

I save you.

"You're a fucking goddess."

Your haunting lips
and grotesque vocals,
serenade the wint'ry
travesties into a
heap of ripe, warm
soul shine.

You save me.

Blistered thorns soften
at the sight of
the sun...

(as do I.)

**As I bloom in full,

~You smile gently with
the growing red horizon and realize...

I am rescued from
this garden of regret.**

and

...you are free from
this soul-less torment.~

we are saved.