Catharsis

You brought me roses;
pink, and yellow, and dark red.
Hastily snatched from the garden
of an old lady, who smiled and looked away
when she saw you. She remembered
her own rash loves.

You brought me roses.
The scent of them filled me,
and drew my heart, and soul
into a spiral of pleasure and perfume.
Right at that moment I glowed
with love for you and for us.

You brought me roses.
A sly thorn had worked itself
into the tender flesh of your palm,
as you clutched stems in fierce excitement.
I teased it out with a sharper thorn of silver.
Then I kissed away the drop of blood
our love had made you sacrifice.

This entry was posted on Friday, July 18th, 2008 at 6:34 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.