He is my sun and I his rose.

A summer breeze rode in on us
and on a rose bud held together by a single vein.
I held his arm close to my chest,
as he felt my heart beat
my senses unfolded.
Illuminated by his light.
My rosy cheeks warmed to the touch of his hand.
I bloom to his touch.
He is my sun and I his rose.
My roots are deciduous to his a...bsence.
My stem is buried in an infrastructure
composed of a sole smile,
laughed through his tender eyes and lips.
My pedals fall gray when nothing but his scent is left.
My thorns grow wild to his abandonment.
He is my sun and I his rose.
A rose to be dead if his light shines no more.





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