Black Roses

Oh Black Rose

I see you dance in secret your leafs move with a gentle breeze,
When you see my eyes you completely freeze

Do not be shy do not make me plea,
  For you know the journey only starts with me.

To pick you is a crime,
one I am willing to do the time

Surrender to me and be free,
One day I know you will love me

You do not frighten me with those thorns,
they will not stop or make me mourn.

Oh my Black Rose you are finally mine,
your petals taste like a sweet wine.

Most would of went for red,
but to me that thought was put to bed.

A challenge not to be mixed,
I never thought of you as a fix.

I thought that I found it.
The beauty I was searching for.
I thought that I found it.
The freedom I was fighting for.
I thought that I found it
The happyness I could only write about
I thought that I found it
And that it would stay forever without a doubt
I thought that I found it
But the truth wasn't even a little close
I thought that I found it
But it just happened to be a black rose

The day that I saw you
I was already in love with you
You're now my world
You're now my everything

Every time I think of you
My heart beats so fast
Can't control my own feelings
My lips automatically smile

You are my Prince Charming
You're so handsome and intimidating
You are my art
You are my masterpiece

I keep thinking about you
Every morning every night,
suddenly my heart was on fire
I fought so hard not to cry

The man I fell in love with;
Is just a fantasy that I made
The man I fell in love with;
Was born in a most romantic book

The man I fell in love with;
Doesn't exist in this world
Sadly, the feeling that I felt,
Is UNREAL LOVE

This tremble in my hands
and the aching in my muscles
but the taste of blood in my mouth
causes me no trouble

no defending
just attack
the taste of blood
the aftermath

this fight
I probably won
but the taste of blood
lingers on

Poetry has become my self harm,
I only write at my lows...
Instead of blood I see words,
Instead of a blade I have a keyboard...

I want to write about...
The wind dancing with the sea...
Or...
The way you smile and it lights up your innocent face...

I don't want poetry to be my self harm,
Because poetry is beautiful...
An art...
Not.
Just.
Blood.
And.
Scars.