There is an anxiety growing from a rose
A turbulent move in the clear waters of love
A potential river of tears sprawling from spring
A rose that withers with excitement and wish
Love won’t **** her; but love’s dregs will
A rose with thorns. A rose like you and me.
You can’t pluck out the thorns. You just have to kiss the rose,
All care, no gloves
The thorns will dissappear
With all care, all love