National Poetry Writing Month Day 8 – flowers

Its sunlit colours decieve me not
I see its sharps and cuts and knives.
I go to grasp it by its stalk,
Pull back to find my blood.

I celebrate our secret love,
The red petals for my blood.
The secret thorns, my secret pain,
As roses scent’s arise.

How I wish id paid attention when grammar was taught at school…. although I have no recollection of those lessons at all. Aplologies for the gramatical errors!

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