Oh, purple rose: unblossom to my will
And I… forever more shalt feel the red inside
Fall into me, my withered rose… and die
Succumbed to love when love is blind
I too have closed my eyes so many times…
And wept;

And when I wake I find myself through you:

I miss the moonlight phrase of our gait:
“The hand that wrote:
The heart that felt…”
I’m bound to you, condemned inside to wait…
But waiting is the hardest thing to do;

Pace into my desire, sickest of them roses,
Addicted to the owner of a kiss…
Once shalt I taste those poisonous lips
And then accuse myself of being yours.