You seek a love patterned in roses,
that quivers at the touch and teases the eyes
that follow your frame as you move.
Do you fear the chill down your spine
from eyes that possess without permission?
Do you understand the rhythm of your own heart
as it beats against the white noise in your head?
My love would strangle the roses
you wish to see bloom,
pierce the flesh of wandering hands that
would stop for a moment’s curiosity.
You do wrong to search for freedom
in a garden full of thorns
that would take your screams for passion,
and see you bled dry before it would
set you free.