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When the Roses Died



When the roses Died

I fell asleep next to you,

your tender face next to mine.

Tears rolled down my face.

They were not mine, they were yours.

I joined you and cried myself

through the darkness of the night.

Not fair I said, not fair.



In the morning the roses were dead.

The roses I gave to you the night before you left.

You said they died for us, they hurt as well.



That night the roses died and our pain

and sadness took over our souls.

Yet, our souls became one.

One more time, one last night.



I can’t sleep anymore.

No, not alone, not without you.



So tired of waiting. So tired of wanting,

to hold you, to feel you, to breathe your breath,

and touch your face. Beautiful face.

The roses died, yes,

but not our souls...