in her clenched hand
she held a rose,
recently wilted

i saw its thorns
dug into her palm
like wire barbed


small and unassuming
gasping for breath
she had the heavy scent
of gasoline
each iris was a lit match
and she laid her gaze on me

let me be your fuel,
burn me down
and lament over the ashes

I know that I am the thorns,
and you are the ever blooming rose

So why am I
the one bleeding?

Darling one,
I only ask that you
dance in my blood,
and drink it as if wine

Bloom for me

Time moves forward with each ticking of the clock but I’m locked in place by this chain of thorns warped around my heart. They dig deeper with each beating of my heart. Slowly they tear more and more as time try’s to move me forward. Each link of the chain forged by happiness now each link tainted with thorns of pain.

In a forest, tucked away
hidden between padded ferns
and angered flowers,
whose roots grew wider
then the seas,
was a heart crossed
of all the thorns
she didn't need.

A wilderness heart

Wrapped in thorns

Tangled spikes, to keep the hurtful world at bay

You sought me out

And you cut them anyway

The smell of roses,
So sweet a scent.
Yet held in hand,
You insist on pricking my skin.