Scarlet Roses

"But when you showed me what happiness looked like, I shook harder, sobbed, wailed and bawled; tore at your clothes, your perfect, perfect face, and said, "This could never be mine."" - the poet. It seems that it was just yesterday when we lay on your bed, sides sticking to aged sheets just looking at each other, gentle impermanence when I inhaled sunlight and the sweet ignorance of childhood and you exhaled life and the ache of passed years you entertained my cheating in petty games and I muffled the warnings that befell my way deep down, I knew the end was near they brought you in an ambulance in a journey dubbed arduous we all got turns glimpsing your face pale lips and a still visage waxy skin and sunken cheeks but all I could see were glinty eyes crinkled at the edges carefree smiles, dented dimples it was then I knew the end was here You planted roses in a barren garden and I clutched the peppercorn railing of your window, we recounted tales of obsidian nightingales and lantern fireflies from their humanity, their solicitude, you learned no lesson, you learned no lesson so I tore away from the dying throng my love turned crystal tears they just couldn't fall, wouldn't dare to my right, there they were peaking above ebony stems and olive leaves- scarlet blossoms at their zenith before I knew it, I was at their side wrenching my share from the picturesque panorama even if the world was dark, the petals sodded my hands with wet morning dew one for every scar you gave I lay them all over your corpse only fair, it's only fair that you reap what you sowed, that I reap what I sowed yes, I ran after vivid lights red and blue and a piercing siren threw caution to the wind just the gravel road beneath my feet and the cruel machine that didn't know what it shouldered that swerved right and left our street sometimes, I lock myself in your room the faded covers still smell like you the blinds turn jade and the paint vancouver blue the sun is warm, but the shadows are black- your favorite color I curl into myself and exhale you in pain the piece of me you carried with you weeps with every hopeless call mourning its rightful place in my chest now grief, with its sanguine hues, blooms in that garden, desolate once more I cry in the arms of the one you hurt and it isn't fair, it isn't fair that you went too late, left so soon it's so unfair, it's so unfair that you broke too many hearts not just mine.