In the hush between dusk and despair, I found your gaze, tempest, a prayer, Soft as a sigh, yet cruel as a flame, You spoke without words, and I knew your name.

The roses bowed as you wander near, Petals shivering, drunk with fear, Your hands held night, your lips a vow, To ruin me gently, though i’d allow.

You kissed me, like winter claims the sea, Slow, relentless, with no reprieve, And I, a fool in silken guise, Drank the storm in brutal eyes.

Now silence blooms where your voice had lay, A garden of ghosts in soft decay, Yet still I ache, and still I yearn, For roses come with thorns, That protrude and burn.