Talking to you is like talking to a grave
Part of me thinks it means something
Part of me knows what was there is gone
And that as much as I beg and plead
What I loved
Will not return

But your grave I cannot mourn
For I am the one who killed you
I watched your light leave you
And took it for my own

But you forgave me
I buried you alive
I let you rot
And you forgave me

What am I to say to a grave?
Do I apologize?
Though you’re already gone
I know this is better for you
But I want to keep you as my own

I didn’t have much before
You were my prize
My light
I loved you
And I killed you.

It really is quite romantic
I hand her a rose and she smiles sweetly
I crave those smiles
So I give her another
And more the next day
She rewards me with her expression
I walk through my garden of roses
All grown for her
And I realize something
I pick a flower.
I ignore it.
I pick another.
It worries me.
I take them all
I bring each flower to her
But she doesn’t smile
She looks frightened
What have I done?
The roses melt away in her hands
And she lunges forward, grabbing my face
She looks through me
She’s crying
Her hands fall to her sides

When every rose has gone
And every smile fades
I let it sink in
That it’s over

I’m over