A Bitter End To the Valentine Season

Dead red roses,
Wilted in a vase on my windowsill,
Haunting me,
The leaves and petals,
Crisp and dry,
Fall like the change in season,
Sparking vivid passionate images,
Of the time when the flowers lived,
When love was real,
And as smooth as the next bud,
Opening up to reveal,
The rose at its most beautiful,
The perfect creation of nature.

In beauty's place lies beast,
Like the fairytale,
Only backwards,
The last petal on the rose,
Died before it fell,
You killed me before you let me go...