Take this rose as its thorn cuts my hand
And bleeds the words that are in my heart
That I wanted to tell you, I am yours
I can only describe the blank stare you had
When I recited that poem about yr eyes
How blue they were in my memory
As you didn’t want to be noticed
And when the rose died; so, did my heart
You took and threw it in the compost to rot
For it was the only thing I had left to offer
As the words flew away
It was return into another rose
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Emotional states and connections are often thorny roses which is a suited link to words and poetry from the bleeding inflicted by the thorns.