Thanks guys! I'm sorry I didn't respond, I actually haven't been on
TH a whole lot recently, there is now like, a sister poem to this one, or a continuation... Here it is:
In her hands she held a red rose,
red like the blood that flowed through her viens,
like the lipstick that graced her lips.
He had thought they were forever,
and maybe they once had been,
but her fickle heart did not belong to him.
In her hands she held a red rose,
she pulled it close against her breast,
it was red like his blood,
like the lipstick that graced her lips.
she had never meant to hurt him,
he had once thought they were forever,
and maybe they once had been,
but her fickle heart did not belong to him.
In he hands she held a red rose,
his red rose,
the one that his blood reminded him of,
her lovely lipstick red lips trembled with sobs,
for the boy who had written a story across his skin,
a story titled red.
She had never meant to hurt him,
he had thought they were forever,
but they never had been,
because she had never been truly in love with him,
but he had been with her.
I honestly don't think this one is as good as the first one through.