Stained Velvet

I stare into her petals, stained black with heartache yet sturdy rose, ever strong, never wilting under the pain. For her roots are deep and the blood in her veins strong. Suffering through tears of rage, the tormenting drought of despair, waiting for a moment of crowning glory. Yearning for the sun's warm breath, she rises again. Though battered and broken, she strives on. Her thirst for enlightenment never fails to astound me, as if for the first time every time. Like the first time our souls touched, her gazed wandered upon mine, curiousity in her eyes, draining me of my essence. Spirits entwined as passion consumes my whole being. The irony of her innocence indict angst in such a precious delicate psyche. She is my woman, my curse, my salvation. Together we will venture into this eternal bliss of meaningless existence searching for what is lost and gaining what is rightfully ours. And finally pulling the stopper on time that our tortured sould will be finally put to rest.