A poem

Crushed Petals

Crushed petals of a dead rose
lie scattered over my soul
like potpourri of life, now brittle.
I fight to pen a poem in blood,
with the double-edge of love's sword.
Do not hate me, my love,
for I bear the weight of the world
and cannot abide the heaviness
of us any longer. Farewell.
Life is a fleeting dream,
as death is a lingering crush
of dead rose petals on a grave.

~ ~ ~
Practicing my gothic poety