with every passing day and every bloodied kiss
the thorny stems of this rose, they prick my tender lips
at the end of every day and at every new moon
i sit by the window and wish to get to see you soon
the blood on my lips, the tears rolling down my cheeks
moisten our old letters when i read them every week
it starts to feel like home, every night that i spend alone.
the candlewax, it doesn't burn me,
the sharp quills, they don't cut me,
but when i think of you, your being, your life, our love,
it hurts me, when i realise it's true,
it hurts me, when my memories are all that remain of you.
when you were carried down the pathway,
subsequently your ashes they flew away.
i stood there looking at the sunset, thinking to myself,
why, oh why, did you have to take my sunshine away?
as i walked through our grove, the flowers they seemed to shrivel,
the air it seemed to bite.
but the only thing on my mind, was your tender face and loving smile.
as i walked endlessly, aimlessly, plucking flowers for no one,
your rose it sat by waiting for someone who's one with the sun.
with every other kiss, my lips they continue to be pricked
but they keep the petals moist, because all they wait for is your kiss.
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