quiet me, for I'm bleeding
from accidental meeting
of flesh and wiry thorn
inflicted in my dreams last night...
the rose, with reservation
stood by my indignation
and in my imagination  
invited true love's tender bite.

It's not a time for measures
just save the rhyme for pleasures
these words will tell my story here
and this, my friend, the truth.
I'm not a prince's pauper
not one for stripping copper
but longed for love's entitlements
and have so from my youth.

for flowers from a lover
his fragrance under cover
the things which would convince me
that I'm his and his alone
And so this is my story
it's not about the glory
of finding love which had to have
a piece of me to own...

I felt my own quiet pain in being kept at arms length
for a lifetime. never truly tasting
never owning or being owned gently
and so with this certain *****, I understood
i must not grasp this tightly  
Sill so beautiful.  I am loved

Took it to my heart, bled quietly
and occasional whine, or protest silenced by gratitude
for up until now, the smallest crumb was a meal
and so in my heart,
I gazed upon it with hope
cradled it close with open palm and breathed it's sweetness

Oh, tea rose I love you
no need to be anything more than what you are
actions speak louder than words
you have filled my life with hope
Silken petals softly sweep
his soul, my blushing cheek
this must be The One

when from underneath
or within my loneliness
painful doubts arose like smoky trails from silent valleys,
fragrance filled my room, his incense permeated soft sheet
reminders of affection without presence
a heavy bill filled without the physical
isn't that the RIGHT thing?
just enjoy the roses and sweet words

too long for me to mention
that bloom stood tall with tension
babe's words like water, replenished by the hearer
which gave my heart connection
there was no flower dearer
at least not a living one

grateful for my love
but anchored to his  armchair
never wanting more
no word on the future
delicate bloom unbending
we can guess the ending
yes it was unreal. for him it was quite real
in that it bought the attention and appreciation which
filled his own void.  

can this love creating never mating
issuing the tenderness
in words and store bought elegance
hold the lonely heart like wire?
and am I wrong to pine?
Did I not speak my desire?
why on Earth...I pull my hair
to desire
a woman without the pleasure
to keep her shelved like preserves
cased in glass or vase like flower?

and what of my own heart's failure to protest?
am I not fully to blame?
Have I not allowed this to happen?
funny how the fake
included thorny stem
to complicate things
or maybe to buy
this gullible girl's heart strings
and keep her around

tea rose with your thorns
actions speak louder than words
do me something real
heart helped hope to grow
sharp edges I could soften
satisfied love's longing

where within these walls
did I forget my reason
the main point pressing harder.
artificial love
convinced, my heart is taken
filled with evidence

something tore it open
it came from just out yonder
a love beyond mine.
opening my door
the fragrance blew in softly
I caught a whiff of real

outside, a garden
this beauty could not harden
but bloomed with others
and just beyond I saw them
true lovers and I held them
captive in my eyes.

walking past hands clasped
I closed my door discreetly
watched through window pane.
they stopped to smell rose
he very present to her
arm now on her lower back
he went to pick one for her
she held back his hand

kissed her lips and smiled
i could not hear them talking
but what I saw was real.
today I spoke truth
took the fake rose from it's vase
grabbed it from the stem

opened up my window
threw that stinking thing out
babe with bathwater
quiet me because
I am open and bleeding
fake thorns bite is cleansed

never a rose
bought to please an aching heart
could bring more pain.
never a phone call
pressure released eruption
could bring more comfort

no man grew colder
defending his right to stall
preferring himself.
no fool fell harder
cheated not by man, but heart
wanting something real.

No heart learned quicker
lacerated by her own
willingness to wait.  
romantic mediocre
with words and gifts, a joker
I will not fill your void.

and now I sit
a flower in bloom
quietly waiting
hopeful just
to be
us.