She is the
red, red rose
you admire the most.
An epitome
of grace, daintiness,
and perennial beauty.
But be careful
not only of her thorns,
for a flower
who grew out
of an ice frozen ground
is not the flower
you think she is.
* * *
"You deceived me."
"No. You," she pointed at him. "... deceived you."
YOU ARE READING
Through The Noise
PoetryUntold stories about the noise who fell inlove with silence.
