The Death of Me

My dear Ophelia, your absence has burdened me.
I longed for that rose you carried with you.
Those red petals, that steam, and that alluring scent.
It never left my mind, that rose was what I would define as "perfect".
The more I look at that rose, the more it shows me your faults.
Ophelia, am I still in love with you?

I spend my days feeling the moist dew on the bottom of the stem.
You wonder where your rose went, I have it.
I come to you to return the rose, you notice the cuts on my hands.
These cuts I gained for the rose's thorns.
You're angered, hysterical.
You say the words that kill me, "You're breaking my heart!"
Oh Ophelia, you are the death of me