Font Color='#880000'The Roses/Font Poem by David Zvekic

To share... To share... Oh please don't make me share
the hurts and pains and loss of love remiss;
That life could turn such shame I feel or care,
though caring will not warm a lifeless kiss.
I die and die each time you say my name,
and every death I bear is as the first.
I cry and cry; each tear I shed the same;
How many more I'll weep until I burst.
I can not see another episode,
Another morning, or another night.
I cannot find a silent interlude,
except to count these breaths till our next fight.
What kind of things do you think measure love?
  Dead Roses are the only things I've thought of.

-June 6 2006