Thornless rose
If I saw a thornless rose
I’d have found perfection
Sight of painless allure
I’d hold on, never let go
so I did, but when there were
none on the exterior
the interior made into a bush
we couldn’t beat around
walked right through
Smiling like mad men

the spikes, a diadem
It’s weight screaming unjilted
We danced
between the gold and the blue
With anything we could find
sharp or blunt we lived for scars
The art of trust and the labour of hope
We bled, pleaded and yet
wouldn’t excoriate each other
because on either end
Lied an anguished soul
hailing such a suffering

that death draws inspiration
Contemptible to the core
Each I love you, Ironwork to the dangeon
the dark cells that harbour our essence
A thornless rose, The beauty on the outside
a juxtaposition of the pain within
there’s no perfection, only delusion
we were the mole of our undoing
It’s grueling to swim in blood
when each drop suppresses
passions we shared
So we drown in red and still

I’d rather die in your arms
than far from the touch
of your cold embrace
known to me more
than the warmth of my heart

~ Roméon🥀 ~