BLACK ROSE

Taking my face in your palm,
you whispered my name and love.
The scent of your breathe,
the whisper of your voice
and the velvet of your tongue
reminded me of the rose.
You were my black rose
the rarest of the rare.
Strange and irreplaceable.
Unreachable, yet I was
lying in your arms.
What a thorny embrace it was.
You were my black rose,
with your brooding black eyes,
whispers, delicate touch, musky smell,
and the satiny lips caressing
every pore of my body.
But you were the black rose,
thorny, cruel and black.
And as the rose withers
so did you.
Going far, far away,
making me fade into oblivion.