Hello, my name is Rose. Sometimes I write things, but inspiration is a bit fickle. Feedback is welcome. Appreciate ya.
I love you, and I’m so ashamed
I’m barely fit to lay eyes on you,
More angel than human, more starglow than flesh,
As you are.
As I am not.
Even your glow cannot illuminate me.
I have succumbed, long ago to the chasms within.
Even you cannot drag me out
But I worship you for letting me gaze from below.
I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry
Although you do not mind
From a distance shall I stand, irredeemably wretched,
too far gone, now.
Perhaps the thorns in me grow on the roses in you
The thorns which I have so eagerly twisted up in my hands
Detachedly watching blood rise from beneath my sordid skin
Nothing touches me anymore, nothing but you.
You have a foregone beauty, my love
Only dreamt of in ancient songs about the moon
About the heavenly gardens, about the gods in their sky.
Maybe you will come to need me as I now subsist on you, as my bread and wine, as my eternal communion.
Every sun should have a moon to reflect its glow, however palely...
Perhaps the twisted roots of my veins will sustain the wildflowers beneath your skin.
Perhaps my dark blood will spill into your quicksilver.
Perhaps my fleeting night will become your endless, shining day...