When we met, your body was in bloom,
Roses of purple black and blue,
Planted without care. Strewn about
the bed, your flesh now painted.
Frozen blue buds pushing
through snow, brushed onto skin.
The petals soft and smooth, spread
Across your body, like a vine.
Blossoms of summer, with shades of winter,
Their roots went deep, coiling and constricting.
They became your arteries and veins,
Your nerves and bones.
I cannot pull these flowers,
Without destroying part of you.
Only time and careful tending,
Will wither the roots.
Only when the flowers fade, if you
will let me, I will plant my seeds.