DaemonChrno

Don't rest roses on my grave, trail of bouquet that you pave. Vibrant death, ignorantly conveyed, leading too, my buried cave.   What flowers, my love, have you brought today? Daises? Soil in dead eyes, all to grainy. Tulips? Memory waning, soon to forget. Poppies? A bold quartet, pedals of debt. Ah, a rose? Don't mask your woe, we both know, I am gone, grown so cold. Fading marrow, in my bones. Corpse alone, parted soul. May I love, be so bold? Do not, let your heart bleed, forever sorrow, forever grieve. Let me be. And on my grave, let grow weeds. Don't rest roses on my grave.