Succumbing

I see a rose as red as night,

with thorns to prick and take their toll.

I lose more my way with each new fright,

and with each new caress lose more my soul.

 

You are my fall from a shallow grace,

an ethereal death as sweet as ecstacy found.

And I lose sight of the world, lest my face,

my final scream of passion the only sound.

 

You claw my heart with the word evermore,

my ceaseless existance falls like a dead sun.

And I know that I am damned as I begin to soar,

to a sweet hell that has only just begun.

 

So my heart grows cold, too far gone to save,

as I allow myself to succumb to each passion rush and wave.