Beneath the burned blossoms felt.
There lies a core Through hungry cosmic webs.
There lies a deep december Of pain and sorrow felt.
Through velvet lips and violet eyes,
There is a shade no one dare touch.
A place deep inside not tainted by the rust.
In the dirt beneath the grime
The roots are the hearts of mind.
The waxy custard mottled stays.
Splendor on through fields of greys.
The livid lilies rise too loved.
Rubbed from my remiss.
From spells second kiss.
When blood drips wet roses blush.
All is dust.
As falling frosted from the rush.
A stigma sated by my dreams
In kaleidoscopic fallacies.
Ask me now of wavering thoughts?
Where my mind has fell to not.
All roses fall like haunting stains.
A deepest penance of petals pain.
The rustling flowers give hasty grown.
As all the beauty is swiftly blown.