two

Waste ye not, not one drop,
drink my red, with your eyes
where doth once love abide.

Haste me not, for I’ll fall,
across this life, a lost soul,
in my body my love grows old.

Grow shall not, not one rose,
for garden I’ve sacrificed,
for moss and mold.

But rise from ashes
Phoenix fiery and bold!
And not one, but two,
Both in their loves scold,
Return to fulfil the prophecy untold:

Two become one, stronger than before.