Crimson

I'm lost in the garden
where roses of
bloody crimson abound.
Slender stems and lucious petals
they endear me with;
their perfumed aura empowering,
till I've fallen bewitched.
Behold the treachery,
Wild yet tame,
Glaring yet subtle.
Now it's the thorns that
are piercing me so, ripping,
gnashing, splitting.
Out gushes my blood which flows
thickened with vengeful angst
till the roses too are tainted;
their crimson thirst quenched,
and my bleeding soul barren.