We were hiding
- behind the rose bushes -  
red blossoms like blood -
hiding from the blood.
A splatter streaked dripping on the wall in our house
where rose bushes flower behind the walls.

We were hiding
in the thorns and blossoms
because we were small
and the anger raging behind the wall was larger
than we were
we were hiding
        
Behind the blossoms behind the wall she screamed.

We were hiding
behind the rose bushes
thorn-scratched, we bled.
Blood smells sweet  - like red roses.
Where he hit her blood sprayed red painted blossoms
on the walls –
We built our walls strong;
we built our walls between truth -
and what we could bear

We were hiding safe
outside the walls, and we built walls
to be safe inside the walls.

The rose bushes  bleed red -
thorns scratch -  this then is love:
red blood, red rage, red roses, red lust:
love is walls and thorns.
When he hits her, it is love.


When our walls are complete, we will hide
behind the walls and we will survive love.
Thorns, blossoms, blood, and lust;
all the aspects of love will roil vainly
against our walls
and we will stay safe because we know
what love truly is.
What love is.