You gave me blood roses
Don't you deny,
Back when my heart was a rose
not an eye,
Heart shaped or lung shaped
They blossomed and died
Those roses, those roses
You used them to lie.
My roses, they withered
In a glass full of vapour
I pressed them in books
Between tissue and paper
The stems, I gave them
to soil and to germs
For nourishment
and to feed the worms.
The pages, they flattened those petals
and they dried
Those petals, I used them
I used them to cry.
You gave me blood roses
Don't you deny,
Back when my heart was a rose
not an eye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem