Roses in the morning,
Their thorns crept through.
Heavenly at the beginning,
The wounds they inflicted were few.
Felt like something unearthly,
So sweet and comforting.
Unaware of the thorns,
Or the venom they were injecting.
It coursed through my veins,
A fire I couldn’t see.
Slowly it numbed the pain,
And hollowed out what was me.
Bleeding in the evening,
I ran to you,
In hopes you’d be in sight,
My hero, to the rescue.
You left me standing there.
In spite of seeing me bleed,
You didn’t turn a hair—
Darling, you let me bleed!
Love, hate, doubt, shock, and despair—
They were all present,
Hanging in the air.
How come?
The love that was so unearthly,
So heavenly sweet,
Ended up intoxicatingly bitter,
And still haunts me in my sleep.
Your name now hurts,
When It was my muse in the beginning,
But you preferred to call it quits,
I wish you chose me over anything.
Only then, our love would reign,
No more thorns, no more wounds,
Moving past the hurt, the pain.
We were destined for a happy ending,
And it’s what we would attain.
