Lips crack and split like the petals of dead roses.

Dark
Twisted
Lifeless

Flowers come and flowers go and you were the most graceful of them all. You were a black rose, beautiful to behold but your stems were sharp and callous.

Why do you allow your thorns to chastise me?
I sit silently, reminiscent, remembering how I fell deeply in love with you and how you cut deeply into me.

Love was never supposed to be like that but it was love nonetheless.

I plucked at your petals as you made my fingers bleed and we traded our secrets. You absorbed my strength, I harbored your weaknesses and from that day, I was never the same.

You are gone, wiltered and your essence blows in the wind. My lips sense your presence and crack once more in the hope that you will return in bloom...

For though dead roses wield no sweet aroma, their thorns still puncture the strongest of skins.