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Oh, Rose.
How your petals—
so red, the lips I
long to kiss—
glimmered beneath raindrops.
Tell me, O Rose,
have you no knowledge of the lovers
and the knights groveling at your feet?
Have you no recollection of
the nights under stars,
your eyes agleam with wonder
as you gazed towards the heavens?
You were my heaven, that night.
Oh, Rose.
Your beauty struck me from within
before your petals blossomed;
you were my rose ever since,
and long before.
Let the rains wash us tonight,
for your thorns have inflicted many wounds.
May our blood mix,
yet never touch,
for too much bloodshed
has already occurred.
Please remember our love,
O Rose,
and put away your thorns
until we meet again.
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(2017.)
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection.
PoetryEvery poem that I have ever written in my designated poetry journal since the day I was eleven years old. Read at your own risk. 😎
