• Petals from the dewy rose
    slowly fluttered on the wind
    and fell behind the curtain-
    which she closed.
    Behind her now, they whithered
    glancing back upon a whim
    she saw thay were all past her now,
    billowing away across the distance,
    like her fresh and poignaint sin.

    She was slender as the gallos.
    She was fair as any corpse.
    She was lost to reverie.
    The path was now littered
    with petals from the rose bud
    rising from the shadows
    like blood
    floating in the wind.

    Where she walked there were the petals.
    Where she stood there was dispair.
    Her past was full of rose buds, and they whithered there.
    Her presence was blessed as a tyrant.
    Her past was cursed with innocence.
    The road between was marked with a prevading, rosey scent.