A Dying Rose
Take apart this hollowed heart
And leave me breathless still
I would trade all that I own
To touch your face at will
Turn from me and you will see
A man fall to his knees
Whisper soft and speak of love
Of this I beg you, please
Walk away with great dismay
To me will cause great strife
Not to love, my flying dove
Your words cut like a knife
As I stand I take your hand
You quickly pull away
My eyes have drawn the curtain shut
You’ve ended life today
Copyright © Marco Borda | Year Posted 2007
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