An Atramental Conversation

 

My black rose,

what is this dew

of blood that

envelops thy

delicate petals

of darkness

and melancholy?

 

`T is the blood

that pours

from thine eyes,

like a river of

crimson blossoms,

and trickles onto

my dismal beauty.

 

But my fair rose,

how art thou able to

perceive my

scarlet tears

when I do not

see them

for myself?

 

Suffer long enough,

my child,

and thou wilt transcend

the clear

liquid that

submits to

thy control.

 

Then tell me,

my dear black rose,

how do I prevent

my eternal nothingness?

How shall I begin

to salvage my

own cursèd heart?

  

Thou dost not.

Thy pain originates

from thine own

will to think and feel.

To destroy that pain,

to destroy that void,

is to die.

 

Then death

shalt greet me

with open arms,

and relinquish

me from my

miserable and

tumultuous life.

 

So be it thy decision,

and thine alone,

to find peace.

And so be it,

by thy power,

to be released, for no other

can do it such as thee.

 

Thank you, my black rose.

Thy foliage

shall no longer

 be tarnished

by my sorrow.

I bid thee farewell,

and welcome my fate.

 

Farewell,

my cherished friend.

Thy misery sustained

my growth whilst

thee cried.

Therefore, I too,

shall welcome destiny.

Reviews

[Natasha]

Feelings of sadness, despair, and grief would be what I consider I'm feeling but knowing that only his peace is reached by this ending it brings a most uplifting joy to the negativity.

One of my favorite poems of yours.