She wore a necklace of thorn
Protecting the petals of her face; soft folds of petal fluttering in the wind.
In a garden filled with pesticide she sought something pure.
Away from insecticide; A poisonous thought left to linger alone.
She'd often flirt with spurts of wind.

Seeking release from root to stem.
Although covered in thorns I kissed her without fear of being pricked.
Wrapping my hands around her body. Caressing the fold of her face.
Never knowing the touch of hands she nestled her thorns deep.

My hands leaked with affection, providing a warmth that stimulated root.
Far away from pesticide. Other insecticides that would ruin her beauty.
She nestled herself in my hand, creating a garden of her own