The Color of Roses-a poem

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.