By Arcassin B and Stardust
I used to think a rose was THE symbol of love and affection,
but I got so many from those who said they loved me and didn't so the theory needed correction.
Red roses strewn around my bedroom floor
Like sharp thorns uncountable covered in my blood drawn by "lovers" who just walked out the door.
They say every rose has its thorns-but you were all thorns no rose.
I guess that's what I liked about you.
No life in this house , so I decide to tend to the garden,
Not of eden, but its beauty sure was a match,
Growing inner full regret of love and its struggles,
But always reminiscing me and you could be a perfect match,
Is there something wrong with that,
Pink fluff and green pencil-like structure,
You can see all the beauty and the feels also from contrast.
They say there is a special language of flowers - and a special language of love to each their own.
I guess you never spoke to me except with flowers that I threw out and didn't want to own.
Perfection is what we look for though I would have settled for less,
You were exactly what you looked like- a Thornbush.
No wonder my heart's a mess....
I wonder why I can't commit sometimes,
Use to love when you were pleased,
Kissing our souls away
In a haze,
Blowing roses in fresh glaze.