The Color of Roses

Love is a blackened rose.
Once wilted, it never grows.
Black hearts filled with deception.
Hard to tell what’s up from what’s down.

A purple rose seems full of hope,
But can meet doom at a moment’s spell.
Loving it seems cruel and unreal
like a movie that’s still.

The heartache inside is unbelievable, like an
Unsettled windstorm. Why can’t it just get
Done and be over with?

I am that midnight flower,
wilted to the world.
I know I can never be a purple rose.
Gloom follows me to and fro. Ready
To pour sorrow all down around me.

Love and roses go hand in hand.
It’s only the color they don’t understand.