Eighteen Years Lost

On the bridge of his
adulthood, a boy of
darkness stood in the
grave site of his beloved.
One solitary black rose
clasped in his hand.
His tears feed its open
mouth as a river of
blood stained the stem.
A single rose petal fell
from his fingertips as he
slowly peeled another away.
The shattering ice from the
branches of the sorrowful trees
was heard, echoing all about.
The deathbed was scattered
with pedals he disposed.
They were soon swept away
in the chilly wind like
his memories.
Nothing was left but the
boy and his abandon heart...
Kneeling before the
mound of dirt.