The Thorns We Forget

It is the rose she remembers, 

The thorns she forgot,

She’s dying from an anorexic heart,

Can never tell the right and the wrong ones apart,

It is the rose she recalls,

The thorns she has suppressed,

She lies upon a Venus night,

In lament of Persephone’s plight,

It is the rose she looks back on,

The thorns she turns her back on,

Leave the coffin open when she goes,

Leave her lipstick on so that he knows,

It is the rose she will always remember,

The thorns that killed her to forget