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Bleeding Roses
3-11-03
Blood, dripping from my skin
The shape of teardrops
Slowly forming
Into petals
Oh, bleeding roses
I'll catch them in my hand
Becoming symmetrical
A small red pearl
I know just were I stand
I'm bleeding roses
I saw this title, thinking of "Blood Roses" by Tori Amos; actually, this is better than that. I wish you were a singer/song writer; if you released an album, I'd definatley buy it. It's a very catching one, too.
I really like that. Well-written~ Melissa
Greetings Tori. Thank you for the comments. I really enjoyed this piece, bittersweet.
I really love this piece, it makes cutting seem beautiful or at least that's how i feel.
Some pretty good stuff sho'nuff!
Pain erupted in me as I read this poem. I thought of the tears I've been yearning to set free from my too brave, strong eyes. I can them falling as bleeding rose petals, too because I went to a funeral recently for my grandfather, who I realized I never really knew. I realized that despite seeing him every Sunday and holidays in between for the past few years, I didn't know the him behind the face. I didn't know what made his heart crime. I didn't know what a craftsman he was. I didn't know how I much I cared, either. I pretended to be annoyed by having company when in secret I loved it. I loved knowing they cared enough to come visit, spend time, leave memories. I loved knowing there'd be another weekend full of family, not isolation built by me. Now, I may be heading to another funeral. This one won't be my own. This one will be for a man, who I don't really know. He's the grandfather of my boyfriend. I haven't been seeing my boyfriend all that long. I won't be mourning a man I shared many memories with, but for a man I wished I would've been able to make some. In short, as read "Bleeding Roses" it reminds me of putting roses of tears upon their caskets. I hope when you wrote this, though, it wasn't so traumatic.