Elegy of the Black Rose

The petals whispered what her lips could not.

No one saw her weep at the funeral. Not with noise, not with tremble — only a stillness more deafening than grief. Her face was lacquered with mourning lace, her lips sealed in matte obsidian, and a single black rose rested against her glove like a requiem frozen in time. From the corner of her eye, black tears rolled like ink-stained memories. 🖤

Each drop told a name. A memory. A betrayal. A promise. She did not need a eulogy — she had already spoken the truth with every silent, shudderless breath. The rose had bloomed too late, and now it wept with her. Its petals bled along the edges.

She does not bury the past. She holds it. Smells it. And then she lets it rot between her fingers.

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🎵 Soundtrack:

1. Dead Can Dance – The Host of Seraphim

2. Chelsea Wolfe – Flatlands

3. Diamanda Galás – Gloomy Sunday

4. Arcana – We Rise Above

5. Faith and the Muse – Scars Flown Proud

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Resolution: 4368x2448

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One-of-a-kind melancholic piece inspired by visual mourning and sacred sorrow.