Death of a Rose\
the kill, teleport the thought of the snap of bones,
wash the bleach clean, ready it for reuse,
Here take my mind,
take it to your places,
talk of your fears and wants,
your past lives,
stoke it with the heat of your gaze,
inspire and inflate it.
feed it, pet it, stroke it.
display it to others,
the peverseness of knowing you have it and i don't.
throw it to the ground and stomp the ever lovin hell outta it.