the thorns of your love seek to hurt me.
they wrap round my ankle,
and slowly climb my leg.
until my entire body is contained
in a cage made by you
the thorns grow closer with every breath,
and if i try to to move i am cut
the pain is unbearable but
are they satisfied? no.
they cannot stop until there is nothing left
until i am naught but a pile of bones covered
in pretty roses.
would you be happy then?
s.s.