A Cliche of Roses

October 22, 2009
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A red rose for my beauty
A dozen for my pain
Afraid to touch her splendor, for I may kiss her thorns
Her elegance betrays
And her charm protects her sting
So graceful is her loveliness that I barely see her poison
A love divine she brings
Yet thwarted by her mystery
Such secrets she has that reveal my crimson blood
And taint her emerald petals with this ruby blood of mine
I've tasted of her anguish and her agony has pierced me
An intoxicating perfume
An aroma like none other
Her fragrance defies her venom and conceals her pain so well
Her petals hold bitter truth
Beneath her leaves is her confidence
Her sincere nature be revealed--her rouge would become black, her sachet a deadly toxin
A red rose for my beauty
Two dozen for my pain

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