
Roses and PainScarlet, bittersweet as wineRoses and Pain by ~suit-of-nine
Roses are no friend of mine.
The petals, dark and deep as pine
Falsest of all promise fine
Like theater curtains; wrinkled, red,
My pain within the tears I shed.
And oh, how I remember
Their crimson faith in deep December
And how they used to glow for me
Who felt naught of their mutiny
When, even in all paradise,
They lay
Indifferent and sharp as ice.
And even as a roaring flame
Leapt up and licked my bitter shame
And slowly seared my throat like blade
of Mercury, I still defied in vain
And twined my broken spirit round the stem
Yet only to have gored my heart again.
The roses, oh,