Freezing Gloom

More about Freezing Gloom

He held a rose of crimson grace,
A brand-new bloom within his space.
He’d pledged to tend her well,
Beneath her fresh and gentle spell.

It was his vow, his chosen ground,
A beautiful, sweet commitment found.
But barely had her roots taken hold,
Before another story told.

A second rose surprised his sight,
In sudden, unexpected light.
She bloomed with wild, magnetic grace,
And stole the breath from time and space.

He loved her with a sudden fire,
A desperate, beautiful desire.
But loyalty is a heavy chain,
And joy is often bought with pain.

He could not let the first rose fade,
Beneath the vow that he had made.
So, with a heavy, breaking heart,
He tore his drifting soul apart.

He turned his back on the second bloom,
And left her in the freezing gloom.
No drops of water, no warmth of sun,
He chose his vow, and left the one.

He starved the love he wished to save,
And turned her soil into a grave.
She withered slow, without a sound,
And dropped her petals on the ground.

But when she died, his spirit broke;
A crushing, blind despair awoke.
The grief was wild, a torrential flood,
That drained the color from his blood.

He wept for the rose he threw away,
And knelt in darkness night and day.
Blinded by tears for the one he lost,
He completely forgot the terrible cost—

For as he lay in his broken state,
The first rose met a bitter fate.
Neglected now by his hollow stare,
She started to droop in the stagnant air.

Her leaves grew pale, her spirit weak,
As sorrow dried upon his cheek.
He nearly lost them both to death,
Sustained by nothing but ghostly breath.

It was only at the brink of doom,
He saw the fade of his remaining bloom.
With trembling hands and a shattered soul,
He fights the weeds to make her whole.

But though he tends her, the garden knows— the hole in his heart for the second rose.