she thought she died
some hand ripped out her heart
left dots of blood in the center of her chest
sweet red, flowing like a river of perfume within her veins
the cycle of endless yearnings,
the sinful scent never left her breath
the two of her hands tied behind her back punished her for being badly - behaved,
mistaking her love as a crime

their arms were built of roses with thorns inside, they covered hers with tenderness,
yet the spines ached in time
a touch impregnated their fingertips with wistful excuses she aimed not to hear
immaculate eyes shivered from their insides, she longed for a deeper glimpse of their desire, but they couldn’t let her in,
who could?
and she poured all her tears into her tiny favorite cuddly bear,
where is her mother now?
they didn’t crave her heavy heart as much as she would cherish theirs,
she stood quiet somewhere far where the sun blinded her eyesight
and the scratches on her neck felt like minuscule grass strips that caressed her cold feet as she walked by


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