Roses and Thorns

This particular flower, holds so many thorns

As if screaming behold thy pain

Such a carnation

So sweet and subtle 

Imperfect perfections in which the other flowers were obsessed.

Dressed casually in ribbon 

Yet so discreet with each petal.

She stands feminine 

Apart from other glories 

Modest in affection, but unfound

In fairy tale sections

Chaos splitting the groove within her stem

She feels rejected

In one loves view

So seldom in love

Who knew?

 

Try and connect the dots

From each spot she is bruised

Her cuts are endless

Her worries-

She wishes

Were few.  

 

Her palms so small

Unable to fit all her mistakes

The blisters swell

Though it doesn’t pain her numb

Reruns orbit at lightning speed

Acid burns the bottom of her feet

Tears stain her clothes

Nothing is as important

Anymore.

 

There is no instruction book

Or manual for such doves

Doves cry

So what?

 

She cannot change who she really is

Among the others

She’s sweeter than sin

Her mild mind

Swings harmoniously 

Undefined through 

The short amount of time

That time elapsed-

 

Her persona 

Difficult to grasp

 

Does this amazing carnation

Understand

She is so often mistaken

For someone she isn’t

Because she’s someone unique

She exists where roses and thorns

Take the time to meet     

 

Somewhere beyond the staggering 

Fleets of pros and cons

Feelings of those loved and lost

 

She grows sensuous. 

Sun

Behold

The fold 

Of an imperfectly perfect 

 

Woman.

 

 

Written by: Dez Sevena