You said this "happened"
But it was brewing,
Bleeding like me.
Maybe it was as I told you,
Maybe I was tired of fighting.
None of it matters,
This rose has lost its beauty,
Its color and sweet perfume.
In its place is a putrid smell
Of lies and despair.
you tell me things to keep me at bay,
To hold my dreams aloft;
Yet out of reach.
Who cares, nothing matters now.

You've said these things a million times,
And a million times I have let them go.
No more-
Now I walk happily and free
To roam my familiar garden,
The sweet smell of incense which sets me free
To breathe so much easier,
And smile forever more.