What Could Be Left?

What could be left but bouquets of dead roses,
Left in the whispers of fading proposes.
Watch as the rusting ring on her finger,
sparkling with smiles that do nothing but linger.

The eyes of her's sparkled when she had been chosen.
Though the kiss that he left on her lips is now frozen.
Dresses ripped from bottom to top,
the beautiful lovers do nothing but rot.

What could be left but thousands of lies.
Lies that do nothing but give off surprise.
Surprises that kill the moments they steal.
Stealing her power, their power to feel.

Feeling the pain that's left inside them.
She holds back tears though she can't hide them.
What could be left but thousands of cries.
Cries of the husbands that held in their lies.
Lies that still hungered but couldn't be fed.
As the lies were set free and left them for dead.