Before he came,
I was that innocent soul,waiting for the Prince on his horse.
when he came,
He planted love inside of me and together we plucked the fruits of our love.
Now he is gone,
he has left me dying with his memories,
incomplete dreams and unfulfilled desires.
My heart weeps,bleeds but then it heals.
Come a little bit closer you will see I'm dancing with his ghost tonight.
YOU ARE READING
The bleeding rose.
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry and prose.I write for those who were left in destitute,those whose scars and pain are left unattended. Come with me and explore a journey through words.
