A Painted Rose

Perhaps my heart bleeds, To the color of red, With every thorn of love; Some tears drop from above. Yet, beauty is exquisitely rare, Wonders beyond compare. As every petal falls, A mystery that foretells. Sweet tongue of poetry, Pierce the sky with its blazing infinity, In the shape of my lost soul; Let me live freely upon the Highest Divine's call. For a love I cannot hold, For a kiss that makes me bold, From a single rose that poisons my all; That paints the sun red causing my lugubrious fall... © Ven-Lyn Valdez 2021