Lost love, whispered softly, may I have one last dance?

Breathe life anew, my darling, take my hand, a final chance

Dust stirring familiar tunes, your glow alights the gloom

Alone, the waltz has ended, choking silence fills this room

Claws outstretched to absence, lingering yearning unrequited

Ancient hearth that warmed our bones never to be reignited

Among bloodied brambles, in a bed of rotting b...

The roses are dead now

But I can’t throw them away

They’re all I have left of you

Now that you’re gone

The roses are dead now

Just like our love

I thought you might come back

I guess I was wrong

The roses are dead now

But they’ve still got thorns

They pierce me when I touch them

They remind me of you

The roses are dead now

Finally threw them away

It’s a good thing they’re gone

It’s a good thing...

Decay, decay

Roses in my room

You gave them to me because of how you saw me

It withered because of how you treated me

Bloom, bloom

You made me feel I’ve lost my beauty

Because of that I lost my thorns

No need to protect what won’t be picked

Rot, rot

I spend my days in this room

Deprived of sunlight

Why did you cut me down?...

Dead roses

Broken hoses

Tear-stained face

Without a trace

I hear your voice

I don’t have but a choice

To look at the rose you left me

Death is what I see

Burning courage is what I see

When I look at you

But I have always knew

The killer that lurked inside

I cried

I could’ve saved you

That I know is true...

They put up a damn good fight

Stronger than you did, after all

They only had so much to give

Before their curtain call

But there was no curtain

Or tragedy to speak of

There was you, only you

Oh so careless with our love

You called it quits

Quite out of the blue

As if 6 years of my life

Meant nothing to you

You've managed to kill us

Leave scars I'll always carry

And now all I have left ...

Roses dont have to die , so carefully strung and hung upside down only to preserve the beauty just as dead roses when they're dry ....

The roses you brought me are gorgeous, colorful and happpy.

The roses you brought me are browning, slightly less alive.

The roses you brought me are dying, falling off their stems.

The roses you brought me are sad, so let’s go plant them.

When things seem sad, turn it around and make a sad memory happy. Life isn’t long enough to hang on to the things that hold you back. Keep going. Like my roses,...

I perch myself on the wooden park bench,

Musing on what time her approach is,

Swallowing my nervousness, biting my lip,

My perspiring hands gripping her roses.

It’s a beautiful, February day,

The sun is blinding, love is in the earthy air,

I hope that the scenery will cool me down,

As I beg to the universe that everything will go alright in prayer.

It’s been a few minutes,

Yet she hasn’t made a...

The roses you bought me are starting to droop.

It’s the early hours of February 15th, you brought me them yesterday afternoon.

I put them in my Nanas old vase, filled with water, almost immediately.

They shouldn’t be dying yet.

Maybe tomorrow, but not today.

Less than 12 hours, and already they’re leaving.

The roses you bought me are wilting.

The red petals are curling in on themselves, and I don...

Dead roses still have thorns;

their scent still whispers your name.

I’ve carried you in my pocket,

reaching in to grasp you,

as if you had never left.

Your memory is etched into my skin,

burrowed deep,

lingering

for as long as I can remember.

I try to resurrect you,

only to watch you crumble in my hands,

reopening old wounds—

My mouth is full of copper,

my nose filled with the stench

of de...