It’s two in the morning

The end of winter,

I’m writing to you now to tell you

That this year your garden won’t bloom

The scent of your roses will no longer fill me with joy

When I come home because you are no longer here to plant them

And I lay here at two in the morning able to recall nothing else besides your roses.

I kept one you know?

It’s not alive anymore but I still keep it.

But is a rose all I get for my heart is that all that it’s worth?

I kept this rose and you kept my heart.

How is that fair?

How is it that you can move on

And I can’t help but think about you

And your eyes?

But why are they red?

Why can I never see the serene blue anymore?

Those eyes that reminded me of the sky.

The freedom that I thought I could have.

Now reminded me of blood

Of burning red fire.

They are the colour of your roses.

The only thing I have left of you.

But my rose is dead now,

Just like your love.

Maybe it’s the roses that I loved,

Maybe that’s why I wanted you there.

So as long as I have my roses,

Nothing will fill,

The emptiness inside

The hole that you left

And so to fill it I think I’ll put a bullet in my chest.

And you were half crazy

But I was too

And that’s why we worked,

My craziness and yours.

But now you’ve gone and left me with nothing but a rose

And a brass cork to fill the hole in my heart.

So for now I think I’ll bid farewell

To you and your love

That you think you know so well.

But little do you know

He will do the same you did to me

Take your heart and leave you with nothing but a rose and a gun,

And a bullet to fill the hole in your heart.

Then you will be with me

And I will get to see

Those eyes that remind me of your rose,

So I can tear them out and keep them forever

Maybe even replacing my own with them

So the world around me may be crimson.

Like your roses.

Or the blood that gushes out of the bullet hole.

Did he at least give you a rose

For all your troubles?

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