Fragranced and frayed
The stems of white horses, a crest
Of lost lovers, mourning for decayed
Memoirs. A petal plucked, a petal falls,
A silent echo traces the lips
Foolish quips lost in childish pursuits,
Paper, perfume, pricey fruits,
A collection for Kings, yet here
Here, is the skeleton rose.
The Ten of Spades taints the bones
With the sickening scarlet he’ll imbue,
Til’ Vampires lick this crimson hue.
The clockwork of the purest mind
Clogs with clutter, when left enshrined.
Encase the prams, pushchairs, carry cots,
Dress them with the shining locks.
Inhale the scent, supposed to sedate,
So she’ll tenderly tip toe towards her fate.
For you, these White Roses bloom,
To adorn the life, and honour the tomb.
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