"The smell of the American Roses, had me to knees. The color of my blood, the bloom of my heart, the smell of my dreams, the thorn of my pain, the stem of my cycle, the petles of my past. I am the American Roses, you pick, you smell, you adore, but not love. I am the American Roses."

This is Volume Two of Touching Poetry. The continuation of a series of poems, inspired by my imagination, & my sense of style in writing. I hope you all enjoy! @radiantlotus_ (I do not own any photos/clips shown). April 2018 ©

-my heart crumbled into a profuse amount of dust, on the day you left. *lower case intended