How is it that….
Roses bleed red
And violets are actually purple from listening to the sounds of doves crying
Sad yet sweet and the mark of the end
Friends become lovers then become strangers occupying air in the same house
For a time
Until the door and the window fly open simultaneously encouraging one lover to choose their exit
There’s no breath left within this love
Only lies wrapped in scripted phrases and forgiving glances giving way to more chances of redemption
More chances of redemption
More chances and less mentions of true change because that was never the end game
Free room and board perhaps?
Given, wanted or desired from either
Two spirits floating above bodies of the complacent
Both wondering if there’s a destination beyond all the placating and compromises
Perhaps love was too ambitious?
This should have been a restroom romp
With tissues for cleanup afterwards instead
And then what was a tumultuous ride wouldn’t have begun at all
No matter though
In any event, it is now dead