i’d step on your neck at the best of times but
i wish you the best of luck with the rest of your life
break a leg, hit your head, break every bone in your body
though i hope you make it out alive because i’d hate to feel sorry
i hope roses by your bedside would suffice for a goodbye
i hope we never have to speak for the rest of your long life
break a leg

Roses fall, silent;
In moonlight, like pouring rain.
On the leaves, dew hangs

The fault with seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses is that we do not know when to stop.

When the lights at the crossroads flicker red, all we see is light, not colour.

We run, we hide in nostalgia’s walls, playing with the toys we grew out of, talking to the skeletons in our closet.

“Life is so strange,” we say, as though we are no stranger ourselves.

Romanticise, don’t realise
love is like hate
passion like anger, anxiety
and blood, just another fluid

Roses, red all the same

Wine, flows through oesophagus like water flowing like tears of the child’s sighs at night yearning for a relief of the pain of a

strange life

being no stranger ourselves

seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses

not knowing when to stop.

I remember the first time my soft hands held yours which were like a rose.
How your thrones pricked at my skin causing me to bleed.
And how I feel in love with that feeling because I thought it was love
I stayed with you despite how you told me I was nothing but a pesky ****

It wasn't till you do rudely poured poured poison all over my soil and grew so tall you hid me from the sun
That I finally decided our graden bed was to small for me

Now it's been a couple years, and I no longer shead tears for you.
The scars you left on my hands, now faded out, and covered by flowers I began to sprout

You who adore roses,
Your beauty outshines their delicate blooms,
For in your presence, even the loveliest rose Can only aspire to be as perfect as you.
You who adore roses,
Your fragrance is sweeter than any flower,
For in your embrace, even the softest petal cannot compare to the warmth you bring.

Rose redoubt
Rose few, in the hate we fed
Rose acts, when charisma is a pout
Rose timid, with a live for all ahead

Round eyes of decorum, vice in a wandering hope
Let to take, a tryst of potential...
Long if tooth, a wholesome day to arrive with our own
Here is my naivete, and a steads sulking breeze so beautiful...

When the world is rounder for a secret asking, to fulfil...
Promise me, a livid course, a golden truth
To the wanted more, when we are a soul of will
The tone of our voice, becomes the drama and decency of accepting youth?

Sophistication in a moment alone, with the weight of the world
Seemingly not, before the needs of others, worth is a means to amends...?
And the coltish example of the future, a repose of justness so early
That a miracle in the form of a wish, is a simplicity we lend?

Tales of the reach, the romance of curious senses
And the heart of essence, we know even will...
When boding hours are to be, the callous works of a world come to ends
With a handful of what miracles were, a common where to the liberty of silence, so real