Her whole being
is a bed of roses Shadow and all Her smell is sweet Her look is crimson Her touch is velvet She is rose water Subtle and soothing Her thorns are true And sharp And piercing Protecting the petals That line her flesh Breathe her in And let her grow Handle her gently Water her often Kiss her to remember Kiss her to forget Land on her Soft as rain drops When she is in need Of caress
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AuthorI am a poet, for better or for worse. It is a way in my being that, ironically has no words. It is a way in my being that finds me when I, and helps me to, forget. I am a poet, for better or for worse. Archives
November 2021
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