Every time I close my eyes, I still see the dining roomthat you had prepared so
elegantly, with are usual favoritedecaying motif, anything dark, drab or dead. Used
candles andwax dripped everywhere, a slab of bloody meat, our favorite black goblets
filled with the most expensive red wine from thecorner drug store. The smell of dead
roses kissed the atmosphereof the room so seductively....but there was something
else I couldn't quite decipher, some other scent, but beautiful none the less.
Everything seemed so perfect, this time, you had put dead roses just about
everywhere you could lay them, dinner looked delicious, you even remembered the
music this time. Yousaid tonight would be special, you said it would be perfect in
everyway. Things seemed to be just that. Everything in its place,and beautiful, (and
that scent...) I sat and waited for youbecoming intoxicated and seduced by the
atmosphere. I remember wondering if I still looked good after waiting all this time for
you.I decided to look at myself in the bathroom mirror, as I was walking down the hall I
remember thinking to myself and smiling,wondering how you were going to make
tonight special. Then I opened the door to the bathroom. I smiled as a tear ran down
my check.I realized the meaning behind all of this, and that the mysterious,beautiful,
sweet loveingly decaying aroma was indeed something perfectand beautiful!There in
the bathtub filled with red wine and dead roses, with your razor on the edge, and large
pools of the most beautiful dark red on the floorthere in the tub.... was sweet beautiful
decaying...you
