these roses are dead.
There’re more thorns on the floor than petals
Tell me the color of your dreams
violet, violets are blue
but what have these roses done to Us?
i think We are romanticizing this too much
i think you’re holding on to these roses too firmly
baby you got fucking blood on your hands!
There’s no more saving this—you’re not Jesus!
So why are there holes in your palms
Blood on your hands
Crosses behind your back
Prayers in the atmosphere
My knees on the floor, pleading
heart bleeding, turning this room red
i only wanted to taste this dream. Violets
everything YOU said. everything i promised myself.
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
laying on my bed. clothes drenched, red
the sheets, too.
my soul is blue. my feelings. my mood.
Roses bleed red,
to hell with the violets
We shouldn’t have loved.
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