Nine hundred red roses
lie out to dry in the shade
Nine thousand different memories
Burn, and then begin to fade.
Words meant something to me,
but that was lifetimes ago
Now, they’re all unique
& worthless; like flakes of snow.
Their rarity made them precious
because they would not sing for me
for all that I begged and pleaded
My thoughts have forever been free.
I always looked at letters and words
as thoughts you could only bleed
in the snow, and on edges of swords
and never more than you need.
But warm Winters came to my scattered head
where there was light, and softest sound
and I grieved for the words, silenced and dead
even as I thanked the Stars I’d been found.
But, even safety nets tear, and the best plans fail
There’s nothing we know that shall stay the same
I know, you promised the sun amidst this gale
but my own words were drowning in the rain.
Please understand why I could not stay
Not when you’d so easily watch them bleed.
Nine hundred roses dry in the shade
But, my words mean the entire world to me.
And now, the traitors sing for you, they always do
so, I guess I’m just stuck with the blues
My words are cliched and awkward, but true
and the fact is that it’s all because of you.