The rose has died

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The rose has died, I couldn't help it,
for several months it was bleeding,
it had no more strength, I tried to save it.
Before she died she left a few words,
it had my name, you called it that,
she was so red, crimson.
You filled her with illusions,
she was nourished by your presence.
I cared for her, I pampered her,
but she called out to you.
Your company she longed for,
your poetry she sought, and bled.
Silly rose, get up, fight to survive.
Before leaving she told me
I am sacrificing myself for you,
I'm carrying all your pain,
so that you can live.
That rose was my heart.