Bleeding Flowers

How much strength do you think it’d take

To pick up the moon and move it?

It would be very hard,

But would you do it for me?

Would you rearrange the stars?

Sometimes I doubt even the surest of things,

Like your love for me;

I know you’d do anything for me.

Your love for me has never faltered,

Never wavered, never shaken.

Sometimes when I’m not so sure,

All you have to do is smile.

I love your smile because it brightens your face,

Illuminates you so clearly.

You’re always happy when you’re around me,

But I don’t know why.

When I asked,

You told me I was beautiful

And I’ll never forget the way you described me:

Crimson poppies in a black vase

With nothing around them but a single knife.

They have to be handled with care,

But never touched too much

Or the petals would fall around the knife

And look like blood

Spilt in the death of a beautiful lady,

Dying more and more with every fallen petal,

Only adding to the sin

Of having killed a flower;

Such a beautiful innocence all in its own,

Attracting eyes but holding gazes.