They were so perfect and bright
when I got them that night.
                      Their beauty amazed me;
                       they were such a sight.
He placed them in my hand
and we smelled them together.
                        "Like these roses," he said, "we will last forever."
As time went on,
they roses began to fade.
                         Their beautiful red, pink and white
                         became a lonely grey.
Their rich, full form slowly began
to dwindle.
                           Their large, open petals
                           soon began to shrivel.
They dried up slowly
and one by one they fell,
                            leaving their beauty just a story to tell.
But what about us?
What will we leave behind?

                             Stories about roses that have
                                     dried up and died?

Thoughts eating away at my brain,
mouth drying away,
lips sealing my shrieking soul away,
tongue stuttering away,
heart palpating away,
lungs having no air,
muscles fidgeting away,
fear crippling my soul away,
nails chipping away,
stress rushing to my brain,
vision blurring away,
tears streaming down my face,
body trembling away
as anxious nerves take me away.

The only thing worse
Than the broken feeling
That you will never be able to stop crying

Is the undeniable pain
Trapped inside you
When you can't even seem to start

I'm running out
and drying up
you've left me no more tears to cry
love

gone is our time
my soul a stone
stuck beneath waves
of emotional toll

so please
get out
let me dream of something more
pleasant

I can't do this forever
and sooner or later
it's you or me
who will be dust

I just have this wave washed over me and it isn't drying away.