Soul-weep, dripping misery in every step, rain counts as blessings on dry skin roaming earth’s flower gardens. In sorrow, tears water the blackest soil.

In remorse, dark-shaded roses sprouts underneath moon’s brightest cast-light.

Potent, as her poetry, blue emotions gaze upon poems written with stems of the strongest, and darkest shaded roses.

Beauty, she wrote for the heart of one man and laid with another later that night.

Hurt, herbal substance heights my awareness of thoughts kept behind sealed lips. Understanding every secret kept is due to fear of losing me to the poetry that grew in the darkest soil.

Pick the rose you want to bloom your soul with...