A single white rose seeped down my throat
I would spend hours swallowing roses
Each thorne pierced from within, nothing left in my coat.
Standing in front of the mirror
She made poses after poses
Tears that would not stop
Leaving nothing but the cares of Moses
My plump skin rot
And my mind spoke of evil
Shed tears that I caught
To the ground each petal plummeted
At these times I hid under solemn sheets
Forming wounds that resisted
Days passed onto the next life
Leaving me to parish
When night resurrected the moon.
I told her I would be there soon
