Wild roses die in winter and love…

91190871“If I say your voice is an amber waterfall in which I yearn to burn each day, if you eat my mouth like a mystical rose with powers of healing and damnation, If I confess that your body is the only civilization I long to experience…would it mean that we are close to knowing something about love?” (Aberjhani)

Where the wild roses grow, by the still and translucent river
I am waking, at your sobbed melody, with a glacial shiver.
Lurking, folded in petals and undiluted perfume, I adjure,
Doleful and insistent, your wanton soul in amour to abjure.

Ruby and sultry as the blood that meekly trickles when you squeeze,
Opiated, your palms on the thorns that complete my beauty with
Suffusing agony, your mouth conjures me up, and on gentle breeze,
Esoteric and erotic, I disclose my flesh of enduring love’s pith.
Seductive, then you uproot my sentience and in arrant death I freeze…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s