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

A Painted Rose