Chorus of Carnations

As the hours creep by and the Wheel turns
As each of the ivory keys are struck
A heartrending tune cries out its anguish
On a winterless morning

Yet it is night to me, a shriveled husk of skin
Clinging onto nothing but memories
Red against the white, how lovely it looks
Adding a metallic taste to the sorrowful hymn
My wrists feel hot
What is happening?

Images spun before the expanse of my eyes
You twirl around gleefully before me
That smile on your face
And the carnation in its full bloom
Snuggled among the lovely locks of black
As sweet as Venus herself
A figure so fine and fragile
My heart throbs with pain and aching
To embrace you with my madness

Images whirl before my eyes again
And I see you standing in the vastness of this icy tundra that was me
Spinning ribbons of colour into my life
Painting what was otherwise a colourless landscape
Bringing joy and happiness

Another image forced itself up
Into the surface of the dark waters
Tearing through the others
Leaving a wake of blood and tears
So painful I can hardly bear it
My heart cries for release from this earthly hell

I met you as always
Parting on a joyous chord with another carnation in your hair
Lovely white against even more enchanting black
A juxtaposition of colours
A colour of your innocence and beauty
So pure and dazzling

Demons chose to come out and play
On that bloody day
Screeching an unharmonious tune of darkness
Piercing all those who could hear them

Your innocence was extinguished in a wink
Violated to nothingness
You chose the end
An easy way out
The bloom in your hair treaded and stomped upon
A taint of darkness to something otherwise so bright

Why do you have to leave?
Abandoning me to the chains of hell
With only my symphony to accompany me
Streaks of colour disappeared
And I see red everywhere

I feel better now
As the images begin to fade
Into the blackness of the void
You came to me again unblemished
A white carnation so bright that my eyes hurt
My wrists no longer feel hot
And the ivory keys look ivory no longer
Cast in a dull red smelling of iron

As the last chord was struck
All vestiges of humanity thrown to the wind
I surrendered myself to you
My white carnation so divine and pure
And the symphony was no longer
Heard in this world but the next

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