Love

Love is a rose,
Innocent they say;
Ignorant, pure,
And snatched away.

Cupid’s bowstring,
Twangs its song of doom;
As love blossoms,
Dispelling harsh gloom.

Oh, dizzy heights,
Melancholy monsoon;
Cool, wafting breeze,
Smothering perfume.

Key in the lock,
Shocking perfection;
Ever yielding,
Lovely correction.

But flowers fade,
That love we cherish;
Begins to die,
Shrivel and perish.

Blossoms crumble,
Gone without a trace;
The love shared,
Thrown back in my face.

Now the white rose,
Surrenders to black;
Penitence pays,
The torturous rack.

Silent demons,
They come to torment;
Hidden malice,
Slanderous intent.

Precious fantasy,
Support the illusion;
The acid tongue,
Destroys the ruin.

Cling to delusions,
Embrace the shadows;
Envision horror’s,
Resentful swallows.

Now wash away,
Lonely grief and pain;
Wring bleeding hearts,
Rabid guilt restrain.

Heart’s torn open,
Painfully sewn shut;
The scar is there,
Memories still cut.

Love is a rose,
Innocent they say;
Buds burnt by hate,
Ashes blown away.

~Opalflame

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opalflame

I am artist, analyst, author, poet, composer, musician to name a few aspects of myself. A bit of a jack of trades, I dabble into many fields that encourage the blossom of imagination and allow me to channel my creativity. I dream vividly and view the world through the lens of optimism and opportunity while acknowledging the ink and shadows.

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