Roses of Love and Death

I saw the roses before they wilted. But I didn't see the weeds that would leave them strangled. The bucket of poison, oh how you spilled it. Our dear labor of love, you mercilessly mangled. After your cruel departure the flowers of romance did hang down. The insects now prey upon a beauty now worn and only sad stories are told. The weight of love's betrayal bends the roses' beauty and steals their crown. When it came to you, I should have heeded the roses of old. The roses were our celestial love. Their roots, I thought they meant our love was forever in the ground. On those moments in the garden, I thought the angels sang above. Forever I thought our love and the garden would abound. The darlings we planted now lay tattered and torn. Please, tell me why you had to spill my blood upon each and every thorn?