Withered pedal

She crawls down walls
like violet...
Violently Stretched across the skin;
the perfect bruise.
And she'd tell you why she came
and what she was thinking
But she never thought of you.
Even in deepest shades of blue.
She was too busy chasing daisies
as you choked on her scent
of sweat and blood
and all the days spent trying to wash it clean.
Now she screams.
Rotten petals
and broken dreams.
You are just a weed
and her garden is overgrown.
Perfect shades of red
separating skin from bone.
So cut the stem
and see how you feel
But milk white wounds
wont ever heal.
Her drowning seeds,
So overfed..
Just another dead flower
in her bed.