i love how brave you are,
for loving others even when
you were the one who needed it most.
the room lights up
wherever you walk,
like you are made of the sun.
3 a.m. calls are the best;
they are the ones
that spark a fire in your soul
and fuel the passion in your eyes.
you made a home in my heart
and a garden in my lungs,
and the flowers you planted in me
filled me with curiosity.
the day we met,
i fell in love with your mind
and then your lips.
your fingers are so gentle
when they dance across
my skin.
your words give me life
like i’m drowning
and i need air.
you are art;
carefully created with
the things you hate the most
about yourself,
but those things are my favourite.

Maybe someday our
kindred spirits will cross
paths and ignite our lonely
hearts we thought would never glow.

Hope
Allah
Graces
Your
Life
With
A shower
Of happiness

Walking into first period I am a 12-year-old girl again,
Confidence turned into racing heartbeats and jumbled words.
Imaginary conversations fill my head with possibilities but nothing ever seems to escape my lips but a timid smile.
I trash my spearmint gum and begin walking back to my seat, the teacher has only just begun talking.
I take three steps before daring to look up,
by the fourth I see blue out of my peripheral...
You are looking at me.
The fifth step, I am looking at you.
And for the entirety of that second all the other faces of the room blurred and I swear the history lesson took a pause for the present and there was solely that simple look to be shared.
A look I have found to be all too familiar but yet it never comes enough to be able to fully decipher it.
It is a look of timid desire.
It is a look of fire and ice, of two elements of opposite worlds colliding.
It is a look of earth and water.
A sly romance which everyone sees but no one knows.
Water hits the shore and I am chocolate melting, I am soil eroding.
I am the tree's branches bending under the misty wind.
I am the earthquake that causes the hurricane, the tsunami.
Yet you are calm like the tranquil sea.
Your eyes the color of the shallow water on a southern beach just before the break of a gentle wave at shore in the first hour of sunrise.
I think of you, and there are butterflies.
I look at you, and they rest.
We both simultaneously break our glance as I turn to my seat.
Oh, how I wish you were sitting next to me.

It hurts seeing you
and I see you every day.

It hurts sitting next to you.
It hurts having you so close
yet incredibly so far.

I am hurting all the time
for the wrong reasons.

I no longer know if this is love
or just a dangerous game of tag.
But I know that this is all consuming.

My love for you is consuming.
And I have to stop playing.

Waiting for a muse to whisper
Into the partially deaf ear of my soul
Exhuming arcane truths from the source
Distilled through the ephemeral mind
Shadowy vestiges reflected in spirit
Fluid spirit flowing through pen
The ineffable spoken in sacred tongue
Ink revealing more than mind dictates.

Young love,
Bitten by the Rose’s thorn
Giving the lovers’ their first blush
Powerful imagery stirring memories
Of first love, of true love

There was a time when
He would have suffered
Her pain as his own
So connected were they
That even in dreams they were one

Sadly, Rose’s thorn
Left its poison behind
And betrayal cut
Deep and true
Its ravaged scars
Leaving an indelible stain
Upon their souls

Bonds torn asunder
Young love’s blush
Turned scarlet red

How I yearn to warn the lovers
Of the Rose’s devious ways
Slyly infusing their love
With betrayal’s bitter pain

For in that moment
When they thought
Love was won…
Well, I guess that’s why
First love’s wound
Colors forever one’s love

Kelly Rose
© January 27, 2017

This poem was inspired by an image - The Thorn by Charles West.  Here is a link to the portrait is you wish to view it.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:CharlesWestCope-The_Thorn.jpg