Denial was a predator,
And i, a willing prey.

The bubble of yellow roses,
Often surrounds the red ones thick,
But remains forever immune,
Perhaps even distant,
From the ****** of harsh reality.

Yet I have come to relish this bubble,
Like the Bedouin relishes the occasional muddy oasis,
Like the vanquished relishes the taste,
Of victory in defeat.

Denial was a predator,
And i, a willing prey.

I know you have told me,
How the season reeks of different roses,
Like the fragrance of your marriage bed,
But for the most part the bubble protects me,
And makes me forever immune,
Perhaps even distant,
From the winds of harsh reality.

Denial is a predator
And i a willing prey,
No more.