Deepened rusting color,
Feeding violent passions.
Petals stuck to skin,
Muddling what he'd been.
The chaos, crimson love.
Breaths coming quickly.
His urgency turned folly,
And kisses turned rock volley.
Roses must have thorns,
As tragedies have heat.
His emerald stem rooted,
Sustained with water polluted.
His words disjointed,
As a flower poisoned.
Alluring venom coursing,
Pleasure, passion endorsing.
Storm clouds on the horizon,
Come to drown, to suck him in.
Thorns, adapted habits protect,
Would leave him torn, wrecked.
Red rose wilted away,
Fed a lethal excess.
Another scarlet fool,
He soon exhausted fuel.
