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Death-bed Flowers
I wish she would call my name
Give me someone else to blame
Other than myself
If only she could see my face
So my debts will be erased
In the depths of unforgiveness
How are we born so callous, so blinded
So detached from life
Yet fall in love by the smell of death-bed flowers
Radiant yet sublime
Yes value always increased
Yes value always increased upon passing noticing what was all be it too late a false spring.beautiful poem! Hugss
Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS
"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."
Death bed flowered
Covering death with life
But cut flowers are always on
But cut flowers are always on a timer towards death, much like us suffocating but a lot slower. Kind of cruel if you think about it.
I will speak for myself
I was not born callous.
This I know.
Soeaking for myself, again
Callousness is a learned reality
To the reality that confronts
A man ( living organism ) in their life ( span ).
KS
Other then that
It is all good. ( the poem )
You bring up an excellent,
You bring up an excellent, logistical point, thanks for letting me know!
Bitttersweet
but very well said and felt ~a~