Furious Rose

"It's not really poetry, but its pretty," he said
As he raises his voice, she lowers her head
'It makes my heart heavy, you're lonely, I think
Oh, Rose, you're sad, I suppose."

"Look in her bed and she's bound to be sleeping
She's lying there dead. - No, she's breathing."

Furious Rose, with your opiate eyes
Your languorous hum, that tone of surprise
I've heard energy in adversity
Your smile: the soul of witchery
You're not running away
You're not running - are you?

Lyrically longing, she's tearing the words from the page
She's fearfully seething
"Bring me your blessings, a prayer or a new pen
- You don't know what I need."

"Look in my bed and I'm bound to be sleeping
I'm lying there dead, but I'm breathing

And I'm barely balancing as it is
And I don't want to drown in my dreams
Bring me wild plums and agrimony
- I bet you don't even know what that means."

Furious Rose, with your opiate eyes
Your languorous hum, that tone of surprise
I've heard energy in adversity
Your smile: the soul of witchery
You're not running away
You're not running - are you?

Gingerly peering, over his shoulder, removed herself from the room
She's terribly freezing, she always knows when to go