The Rose (Poem)

It all started with a simple white rose bud,
A gift from him to her,
Their love grew into a passionate flood,
Nothing could over come their love.

When their hearts beat for one another the bud bloomed,
A perfect white rose as pure as their love,
Forever they said not knowing what laid ahead was doomed,
For blood would be drawn.

When she wasn’t enough to satisfy his hunger,
He went in search of another,
One with more beauty and younger,
Everything was thought to be perfect but secrets find a way to escape.

Day as clear as can be,
A day thought as perfect not expecting what lay ahead,
Another lover she sees,
Her ideal match left her heartbroken.

As far as she could see there was nothing left for her ahead,
Taking a dagger and piercing her shattered heart,
There she lay on her bed as she bled,
The rose turning red the color of blood and love.

Silent tears she shed,
Waiting for death to arrive and over come her,
A black cloud engulfed her from her toes to her head,
Her thoughts and emotions dissolved into nothing.

As she breathed her final breath,
She placed the blood red rose over her heart,
And like that she was consumed by death,
Their lay her lifeless body with a single tear sliding down her cheek.

He walked in memories flooding his brain,
There his once one true love lay dead,
But to his surprise there was little pain,
He was free to marry the woman he truly loved.

But he felt unsteady as he stared,
He did not shed a single tear,
He wasn’t even scared,
Even though he knew he had caused this.

And just has he was about to leave,
Guilt overpowered him,
He knew what she had believed,
That he didn’t want her any more.

She had been right all along,
His love had become sick with lies,
He knew what he was doing was wrong,
But his heart beat for another.

He knew her heart was still because his still beat,
His hand closed around the dagger that had taken her life,
His body burned with heat,
With a great thrust the dagger pierced his heart.

The rose so beautiful the color red,
Symbolizing love and beauty,
For she was so unfortunate she was dead,
But as the dagger touched his heart it deepened to black.

As dark as night and as cold as ice,
Black the color of his heart and love,
Death took the her life and now his that was loves price,
His love was not pure like hers.

Forever his soul will reap in Hell,
While you can hear her cry from above,
He pierced his heart because he was compelled,
She did it as an act of love.

She loved him more than anyone,
If he didn’t want her she would accept no one else,
At midnight he was her brilliant sun,
Without his love she could not live on.

He died out of guilt that he wanted to be free of,
He could not live with the guilt that he had caused her death,
He did not die out of love,
He died not for her but for himself.

A beautiful white rose bloomed out of pure love,
Soon it deepened to red out of indescribable love,
But blacked out of a lie that turned to the death of…..
A girl as pure and beautiful as a white and red rose who became as free as a dove,
A boy as dark and sick as a black rose that died out of guilt he wanted to be free of.





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