Like a rose I am beautiful
When you try and hold me my thorns show
Pricking your skin
Scratching, piercing, and stabbing you
Most run away at the first sight of blood
But not you, you love blood
In fact you held onto me tighter
letting my thorns slice your hand like a cheese-grader
With each drop of blood
My petals grew larger
My color grew brighter
My scent grew delightful
And you knew; thus you let me stab you until there was not a single trace of blood left in your body
YOU ARE READING
A Spark Of Hope
PoetryTHE GESTURE: By George Oppen The question is: how does one hold an apple Who likes apples And how does one handle Filth? The question is How does one hold something In the mind which he intends To grasp and how does the salesman Hold a bauble he int...
