Knives and Daggers
I suppose it’s sad to know,
that our withering stories fade.
The love we found so eternal
Was nothing other than a charade.
Like the rose enamored by lust,
Born only in the darkened mud.
Colors of a feeble hold,
You called it ruby, and I called it blood.
We were made of daggers and knives,
Holsters hidden upon my thigh,
Whispers of kings and queens,
Echo softly as they die.
“The young eternal rose,
The kiss of a dying light.
The lies, they petal away
Fading fast into the night.”
I can’t recount the day,
When I saw a stranger in your heart,
yet I fear it happened slowly,
A glass sword tore us apart.
Darling roses are to die for,
but what I always said was true:
I’d rather have white dahlias,
and simply die for you.
Oh the knives in my eyes and the glistening daggers in your smile,
Made our fates a little more bearable.
For through veiled blackness, a glimmering, blood dripping rose
Made our ending less terrible.
#poetry #poet #poem #story #fantasy #love #roses #writing #prose #knives #daggers
roses and violets and hearts of glass
roses are red,
violets are blue,
what would it be like
if i hadn't met you?
roses are blood,
violets are veins,
would i finally feel alive,
or would i still be in pain?
roses are silent,
violets weep tears,
would i be gone,
or somehow still here?
roses in the twilight,
violets in the dark,
do you think i would miss
the beating of my
heart?
I wish I was perfect but I’m not like you
roses are red
violets are blue
I wish I was perfect
but I’m not like you
you tell me each day
that I’m not enough
through a punch to the ribs
or a slap on my cuff
you say that you love me
buy love back with gifts
but I don’t know how long
I can take all these shifts
I’m scared of your anger
but can’t go without
So I cover my bruises
and stifle my shout
I promise myself
that one day you’ll change
I adapt and reform
while I wait in pain
but roses are red
and violets are blue
no matter your actions
I still find ways to love you
Roses are red
Roses are red
and blue
I bury my dread
out of view
my love I spread
and grew
for my heart has fled
to you
Violets are blue
and red
you came through
instead
you confessed you knew
and said,
my love for you
I always bled
“Roses”
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
sugar is sweet,
and perhaps so are you,
but the roses have wilted,
the violets are dead,
the sugar bowl is empty
and your wrists stained red,
the sun isn't shining
the sky isn't clear
there is no silver lining cause you're no longer here
Rain keeps on pouring,
there is no end in sight,
you're laying there frozen
so far from the light
your beauty's unreal
your smile is the sun
but time can't be turned nor your action undone
the words that you wrote that I only read,
"I love you so much please don't cry when I'm dead",
A bond that was formed,
a love that ran deep
a friend I could keep
I wanted to hold you
wipe the tears from your eyes
been there for thmoment you said said your goodbyes.
I want to forget but most times I don't
I want to let go
but I know that I won't
tears on my face
memories burned in my head,
the roses have wilted,
the violets are dead.
Violets
Roses are red
Violets aren't blue
If I could re-write the world
I'd start by educating you.
The Mercenaries Poem
Roses are red like the blood on my hands,
The ones that conquered all armies and lands.
Violets are blue like robes of great lords,
Who bargain their souls for the price of my sword.
He That Dares Not Grasp The Thorn
there is a saying
that the quickest
way to kill someone
is to kiss them once
and then never again
he left roses on my doorstep
and then left me on read
thorns are a form of protection
and when it ended
i touched
what was left of them
Roses are red...
#1:
Roses are red,
a passionate hue.
Whose beauty,
like you,
blows me away too.
- - - -
#2:
Roses are red
Honest and true
A sincere sweet proposal
I love you.
- - - -
Thorns
I don't like roses,
a beauty too grand.
A fragrance I can't enjoy.
I don't like roses,
but I do like thorns.
They mingle with the stems,
lie in wait
Ready to stab
and bloom flowers of blood.
They say every rose has its thorns,
every beauty has a curse.
But sometimes beauty gets tiring.
Yet curses never get old.