My Black Rose, the Rose of death 🌹

They call you an Arabic bride yet you are an African beauty
Yes, I see the beauty in you and it makes me feel so guilty
My Black Rose, the rose of death

You are the cousin of death, yes you are her relative
I see the resemblance and your identity is clearly positive
My Black Rose, the rose of death

They see death, but in my bereavement I see a new genesis
Stories about you are morbid, your past is your nemesis
My Black Rose, the rose of death

You are dark to the core but it is your controversy that make you attractive
The enzymes battling and my mouth salivating for the forbidden fruit that is to my tongue palative
My Black Rose, the rose of death

There is freedom in being different and in it you lack responsibility
Your thorns pricking the heart painfully, reducing the mind’s agility
My Black Rose, the rose of death

Your darkness is scary as it mocks the memory of our love
Your thorns being the reason why I flew free from you like a dove
My Black Rose, the rose of death

I keep staring at your rarity with a childlike sense of wonder
Imagination running wild and curiosity birthing my new mantra
My Black Rose, the rose of death

Im conquered and your beauty no longer is a matter of opinion
And it seems from your fountain of lies I will drink myself into oblivion
My Black Rose, the rose of death

To many thorns around, she is a beautiful black flower I can’t pluck
Navigating in the dark and the lies of her true nature I cannot trust
My Black Rose, the rose of death

She is a black soul with melanin dripping and I keep sipping
Finger dipped in the poisoned chalice, her toxic thumb I keep sucking
My Black Rose, the rose of death

By McDennias H. Moyo
#McDeePoetry2020
©@McDeeThePoet