Killing Roses

Your superpower, turning delicate rose petals to obsidian disease.

Your weakness, failing to recognize the superpower is a curse,

Not one easily broke.

Only because you cherish the break,

And relish the overwhelming ache encompassing the whole.

If your lines are detailed in poisoned glass.

I will forge my own in liquid light.

To take back the stolen stars,

That ignited my nights and surrendered my days.

To paint a new layer on the canvas,

Which was once colourful, but rendered morbidly pastel.

To leave behind a beautiful a beautiful portrait,

Who knew eons of agony,

And in its place,

A rebirthed model pieced together by hands of bleeding hearts.