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Fragrant red roses blossom in your soul,
let them grow deep in the soil of your tears.
Their pale scent exudes,
washing over your angled hurts.
Their rose stems climb ever skyward,
needing the hothouse warmth of your sunny smile.
Their fragile pedals open wide,
seeking your intimate pollination.
You are their friend indeed.
But with their beauty comes their thorns,
pricking deep, bleeding your heart,
mixing fresh blood into their ruddy color,
making you richer still.
10/16/2005 9:49 pm
something you can never forget...the piercing of a thorn...|
the way your heart skips a beat when you are pricked....
the way everything you were thinking about suddenly doesnt matter....you focus on the right now...the throbbing....the feeling...the breath that escapes...
live more, laugh often, love much