Your heart is like a rose;
As black as midnight, but oh so pure.
Your love is a disease,
And mine is the cure.
You are the shodow
Looming behind my heart.
Even when you make it stop beating,
You make my heart restart.
She caused you grief
And turned your heart black.
Was it the love she gave you,
Or was it the love that she lacked?
She filled your heart,
But with misery and pain.
She brought you all the loss,
But never brought you any gain.
Her heart has turned black;
Not out of hurt, but out of spite.
She drained your heart of love and hope,
But more importantly she took your life.
Now you must move on
So that your rose may bloom,
But out of happiness and joy,
Instead of misery and gloom.
I will always cherish your rose,
As black as it may be.
I will know as it blooms,
That it is out of your love for me.
