Pink roses gardened in soil
become illuminated by florescent scents,
and thorns of love.
The memories of life seasons
with petals kissing one another;
allowing their morbid embrace to
fall into orgies of glitter.
Their Tears kiss their veins
and turn to stone while
bodily fluids kill the self,
until one by one each falls;
falls within the blood satin floor.
The core exposed,
but absent of life,
withering inside itself
for these sins of pink flesh.
Beauty faded without itself;
scars left behind from the inner reflections,
and decayed on the simmering mirror.
