He gave me roses. That much I remember. Two dozen, to be exact. A mixed variety of colours...well, only two colours, really. Some black as midnight. Some red as blood.
But, he gave me roses.
That much I remember.
They came in a black giftbox, tied with purple ribbons. Theboy who delivered them stared at me in confusion. Black? I'm sure he wondered. Who must have died?
He gave me roses.
That much I remember.
Somewhere in those thorny leaves, he had placed a card. Again, it was black with purple writing.
"For you, my fiery blaze. For you, my Queen of the night. For you."
He gave me roses.
That much I remember.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, I began to remember. Remember things he and I had done. Things we had never spoken about to others. Had we...the magick of those times together would have been broken.
He gave me roses.
That much I remember.
Thorns and all. Black and red. The petals edged with silver. I had not noticed that. Had I...and I would have remembered.
He gave me roses.
That much I remember.
Edged with silver. Darkness and blood.
I drew the card back out of the thorns and read it once more.
"Into Hell you and I have gone, my beloved. One rose for each day spent there. For the darkness you have lifted from me. For the burning in my veins. One rose for each little bit of pain."
He signed it "P.S."
He gave me roses.
And now, I remember why.