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Murder
five-of-a-five-midburn

I see my landscapes falling in reverse
Against the arm of a giant pillar
Across the diluted sky splattered with stars.
The roar of thunder comes rolling down the road,
Gently stirring the sparkling dust
That no one treads upon these days.
The wind tumbles on the rose
That stands twisted over her tomb,
Bringing shadow into the world of pitch,
That swallowed her in its unforgiving womb.
And one single rose bloomed in it,
Surrounded by thorns like wicked hands,
How death has stolen from me the one I loved,
This blossom her last kiss, one she never gave,
Not with cold unmoving silent lips
And a stark scabbard devoid of soul.