Oh thy rose
as red as ripe wine.
Your succulent taste stains
my teeth with your floral aroma.
Oh thy rose
with such petals that
fly to meet men’s pink thighs.
How your sweet touch
makes men believe.
Oh thy rose
with spirits that waft
into one’s senses.
Intoxicating, enriching the young mind.
Oh thy rose
with an edge to
such gentle nature
that pricks wavering hands.
Oh thy rose,
You are melted sin
that heats my supper and burns
my raw lips, yearned to be smoothed.
Oh thy rose,
Your sweet kiss stains
my lips with red ink and I taste
your tongue curling in me.
Oh thy rose,
You are open like a blossom
waiting for its bee to sprinkle
yellow feathers onto soft skin.
Oh thy rose,
You whisper kindly
cloud dreams drifting
down to touch wet earth.
Your soft skin,
delicate at the touch,
when rubbed too firmly,
tatters to tiny red babies
that yearn to be touched once
again. Oh thy rose with such
beauty and prose, you are the
symbol of red lust. Your name
a reminder of the flower between thighs.
How it must be cared for gently.
You are pure as snow but tainted with blood
that is rich, thick syrup. I nuzzle my nose in
your center and find such a smell unique to
all men. Why it is not sweet nor bitter. My nose
tastes your gentle hand pushing me further.
Oh thy rose with soft petals. When rubbed
your sweet color stains my white hands. Your
touch is gentle and fresh. You are everything pure. You are
everything, my pure desire. You are the heart of
all romantic pursuits. You are the love
which I dream. And when my lover opens thy door,
I will greet with your blossom of beauty.
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