The flowers still hang

Our love was bundled roses in my cleansed grip

with thorns that over grew our innocence.

You held me together the red ribbon tie

similar to our shadows that danced to old time melodies.

I find myself throwing glass vases at your colored silhouettes.

Our love wasn't little toy guns.

You tried to kill me but you forgot the bullets.

So now I lay with your shell less gun

In hopes of what could of been,

But I lay with more pain then that of a bullet

like my dead petals so brittle that hang

forgotten on my wall.

Our entwined hands broke away like wilted stems 

as we said I love you one too many times..