A rose.

A rose, a curtain and a field of bone,
I want a lover, to invite, to atone,
I would give any price, any gem, any stone,
But every night, I spend on my own.

Beside the river Styx, in the isle of hell,
I waited in silence, while the demons would dwell,
Yet, upon the shoreline you stood that night,
You too know emptiness, and mortal plight.

Take my hand, radiant Goddess,
Is it the heathen that you choose to bless?
If so take my hand and take it with grace,
That we may leave here, to find another place.

I’d burn a thousand cities to see you smile,
Snuff out a million lives to dwell in your isle,
But what for my Princess, how do I do it?
How do we find this pathway unlit.

I’ve drained the blood from so many hearts,
Practiced myself in all of the arts,
I thought that I knew love some time ago,
But it was swallowed, as the currents flow.

So tell me, must I travel far?
Or have we found grace, my rose noir?