The Black Rose (A symphonic Gothic Romance) by Telle

Along the path of roses black as night,
walked beauty, her beauty and things despite.
I'll hold your hand forevermore, my love.
Your lovely promise, etched at heart, I have.

Walking, approaching she’s to the oaken door,
I would hold her hand so she would not scour.
For if I lost all grip, grasp to reality,
the tears in my eyes would bring forth clarity.

She is a black rose; she is my black rose.

I held the black rose in my hand.

Piercing, it’s thorn bury itself into my veins.

Bleeding, still am bleeding I hold

‘Cause the better future for us’d unfold.

She is a black rose; she is my black rose.

Open the door, cathedral benighted.
To the altar she walked, my heart swayed.
I look at my beautiful, damned bethroted.
The dark sky, though childish, black God painted.

Walking, approaching, to the oaken altars,
She looked at me waiting, i forced a smile.
For if I unveil the frown: times to come,
"I love you" (a curse) would not be worthwhile.

I held the black rose in my hand.
Piercing lovingly, its thorn I would kiss.
For if I sleep for a second,
a precious, ever, moment I would miss.

She is a black rose; she is my black rose.

This
wedding
is not
meant to be
this black hearts
ne'er meet
eternity.

Stained glass and crucifix.
Black candles and its light.
Spectators all gaping,
saying "this isn't right."
for darkness and darkness
Shall not bring for light,
only heartache and tears
and all that, evil, might.
The priest would not bless
nor read a line from the Script.
He would not let this lest
to hell he'd too weep
tears fall from her eyes
i too would weep soon.
I plead bless this wedding
under the bleeding moon.

So, along the aisle of tears and heartache,

Beauty and tears are about to be wedd’d.

If I hold your hand me you’d ne’er let go:

I’d run away to save what you bestow’d.

I'm running out of the oaken door.
i'll save my black rose from being crumpled.
For this love so strong would and will save her,
Even tho both our worlds to the ground crumbled.

I let go of th’rose from my hand.
Musing, I walked to a crystalline lake.
The shining red moon guides the land
even tho mine would break.

Like Narcissus i look.
to the water, shimmering,
I’m sitting there for hours
merely contemplating.
For before me, reflected
as tho it were to mock
i too am a she
a weeping rose black.