carnations
White petals fluster at the breast,
Opens a mortal wound - becries,
The great descent into cold flame,
So beckoning the year a test,
Pale carnations bloom.
Pink petals crown the leaking heart,
So summoning from shallow wounds,
The direst pain. To barely bear,
A naked flame in passing hours,
Rose carnations bloom.
Pink petals mourn the flowing fount,
Leave hollowed husk to fill again,
With sacred velvet born from life,
To death with wit's false hope it bleeds the same,
Rose carnations bloom.
Tell me, tell me of this grand success?
Who beholds it? From where does it descend?
Does it come in muted drips or furious sound?
Does it stay, and is it ever found?
Did you hold it from me so I would see?
This broken hope laid bare within my heart,
My hidden strongman's strength I came to love,
Has fled me so I weep.
Because my strength is spent and naught,
Because I hoist myself upon so frail a mount,
Because I didn't see the filthy hope I took,
In these frail wings you gave.
I weep because I wanted you,
And settled for a smaller thing,
Veiled from my eyes I stole,
A glance at this weak mortal frame.