Wild rose–


She was a wild rose in my garden, surely I did not plant the seed—As she overtook all that grew within the garden gates, I found that unless I danced upon her blooming petals, I would be left asunder in the looming darkness she had also made for me—

Unless such love consumes all of life, as to define where you are in relation to such a thing; you know not love, and only know love’s creation as a veil covering your very own heart—  I am not my only self, she would whisper in my ear; and though I could only know her in the confines of my skin, she made such skin worthwhile—

And such strength in the belief of my own rule was as brittle as my bones to such that rules— I would surely kneel down to bliss, and I would surely rise up for hers; for a man who thinks the weakness in the face of the waters is that of a ripple, is a man who won’t allow himself to be distorted, and in so a man who could not allow himself to be moved— And such a man is his own tombstone; marking the grave where he ought to have lived—

And I am tombstone, I am a wandering tombstone; till one disturbs my grave—

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