Black Petals represent our hearts they have grown black and have fallen off beat Brown Stem represents the burning flesh that we've come to know so well Dull Thorns represent the fight in us that has also grown dull and weak the leaves falling from the dead flower represent our fallen and shattered love that can never be reattached. We both had so much passion, and so much youth, loving one another took so much out of us, now we have aged. Not just growing older, but growing bitter, afraid to love again, not willing to try, instead we let the optimistic views die, dying with my heart and my soul which came to be the day you said goodbye, you trashed my name and I trashed your heart, never to love, trust, or feel again, I left you paralyzed and you left me petrified. Now looking so far back but yet so close the eye I ask my self why, why did we deliver this dying bouquet. A bouquet does not start off dead and the process is not within the flash of a minute, it took time to kill off our love, maybe being in love so deep illuminated the killing of our love all at the same time. We started off killing one another, from the moment you stole my heart and I yours we took a piece of each other, risking harm to ourselves, but not caring of the outcome. I gave you all I had and you gave me more that you could afford to offer. And now blackness is all I see and feel, You reach for me But I am not there and I turn to you only to realize that you are not there and this is not fair. So we give up the thoughts and the wishing and the trying to make it work again … so our bouquet of black roses are left at the door step. And for months no one bothered them, it rained and it rained and the sun shone and we had no communication, until one day a sign came to me … that going on without you even just to talk to … was no good for my health because I’ve grown immune to your voice and your choice of words that I haven’t heard but I yearn to hear. As we go unheard no more, I let you back in triggering memories, that I dare not remember. But there was that cold December you layed in my arms and we both knew what love was for the very first time, but now how can we reminisce when our bouquet of roses are just this, one of a burning sin, tarnished and dead but then I look to that door step to see a small image of red. For what do I see is it just me. Now the sun starts shinning again and my frown begins to turn. I’m so unsure, but I think that once more we can restore, roses are not red to begin with, no for roses start off a color that is not of the image we portray for roses are not red or white or black roses are actually not roses at all. Roses are representations more than flowers, or plants roses represent what’s in your heart, for a heart is always seen or know to be red, but hearts do grow black just as lungs and there’s no metaphors to describe what I’m saying because I speak on experience and I see that love that goes bad will make your heart black, which is the reason one gives black roses to show what’s not visible on the inside. But just as that’s plain as day it is as well to go back the other way so, in final words all I can say, is while there’s breath in our bodies and we are not yet dead lets put in some effort, lets make it work, take my hand and lets turn these black roses red.
