I never knew love before seeing him—
a beauty under the southern night sky—
as he danced, his strong body pliant and slim,
to the tunes of a distant guitar.

I never knew love before seeing him
with his heels on the pavement click-clacking.
As he flares his dress, goes to a spin,
with a rose in his hair – he is striking.

Each step, each clap – I am at his mercy.
Each beat, each dance – he is all I can see.
I'm lost, I'm in love, I'm down on my knee –
each time I pray that he also sees me.

It was most boastful of me to assume that I could be the one to fill your cup
to assume that no other flower could fulfill you in the same manner
who am I to assume that we don't look just as lovely in a vase
and who are you to compare a rose to a carnation?
one whose grace is affiliated with beauty itself
and another that bumbles clumsily along like that of a lost bee
in every flower pressed,
in every poem composed
I seem to grow more tired of describing this ephemeral love
I continue to saudade in pursuit of moiety
leaving myself in a state of perpetual hireath
but in full honesty, I don't mind you switching me out for rose here and then
though I can't help but ponder
if she holds the same warmth in your arms
as one does in mine
and as to whether or not I will always be a stand-in for the next lovely rose to come

-a blissfully ignorant stand-in, a carnation

The rose caressed my fingers.
"he loves me, he loves me not."
My eyes could only see red.
"he loves me, he loves me not."
Ready to peel the sweet bud -
"he loves me, he loves me not."

His gentle fingers grazed mine.
"I love you, I love you so."
His eyes were milk chocolates.
"I love you, I love you so."
The petals clung to the rose.
"I love you, I love you so."

Silence is still...
A Rose thorn ****** into the darkness of the night.
Ghosts and ghouls wander a yard of thee,
ones who sheltered by the tree, 6ft yonder.
A veil blows as the river flows,
lost bride who can't find her ride.
Chills of the midnight light ***** down
unto your spine and you begin to run,
but their following you, chasing you-
and they won't give up until you're out of luck.
Angels fall and lose their wings to grow again and recover
their ancient beings of heaven's dream.
Silence is still,
Morning comes to greet you,
and all the spirits of the night find a place to rest,
until the next time, they may deplete you.

I wasn't crying for you,
regardless of what your eyes told you.
I was crying for me
on that mildew night
when you decreed
we could no longer be.
salty drops of relief,
instead of disbelief.
hands in head to honor
the future I can now possess
as you let go of me
and I can fall further
into the beauty that is myself,
& honor the rose which you never
knew how to stop and smell.

no one loves a wild rose
love they may
the boldness of its stench
or sweet blood
that stirs within
at every touch of its teeth

but a rose is not a petal
or its blush
not the sturdy stalk
dressed in laces
a rose, a rose, a rose it is
and wholly it lives
wholly sings
to winds as nonchalant they go
to beads unblemished
an lips of gold

but its words
no gentleness adorns—
no yielding music
in blossoming gowns
its song, as ocean
smashing against rocks
cold
as all around them
glows a sky
angry and bleak

could I say,
no one loves a wild rose
—no one dare
and an infant may smile
to a sunny girl
blush a maiden, a mother old

but a rose wild,
wild stays;
and such simple its lure
I am left a forest
bowing.
and I like you, I
like you, I like you
whole, whole—