Poisoned ground

A little rose sits on a cliff edge
while the storms surrounds the feeble beauty,
a tender glint of red among a world...
of darkened thought.
With hands darker still,
cupping the beauty of a little rose.

While the breeze brushes past it's tender petals,
every petal screaming out, against a storm louder still.
Rising and falling,
surrounding such a perfect little rose.
Every petal which falls,
crashes down to the ground of poisonous love,
Like tears amongst a world so torn asunder.

Every tear which falls,
taints the cold hands.
Which feed upon the roses beauty.
The colour red, striking out against a carer,
blue and cold in his attempt at passion.

And for every moment he rests,
near such a perfect little rose...
The storm rises still further,
the longer the hands cup the beauty,
of such a perfect little rose...
More petals of a strangling love,
fall down to the soft dirty ground.
And scream out in silence to the carer,
until just a stem is left...
and the beauty of the rose has faded.

The carer leaves,
makes the ground un-poisoned again,
and a perfect calm is reached,
The sun beats down..
and the rose grows again,
to be poisoned and hurt once more...

(For background information, I am the 'carer' and my girlfriend is the rose, though this is how i saw it before, i feel alot more...secure with the relationship now and that it's good for her)