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Passion
Is a rose that blooms beautifully
In vain, as thorns anguish
Red is the color of blood
And so are the warm petals
Sweet yet toxic
Carefully harsh
T'was something untamed
And reckless, and foolish
But is overwhelming with desire
The softness of the petals-
Where the rough thorns bleed
But a rose makes my heart beat
And so life is contained with every pressure
Feel the rush
Feel the silent waves
Feel the slight skip in arteries
A rose is a gift of life-
But a rose can make you breathless
Passion is something that could make your heart beat,
But passion is also something that could make it stop—
And not beat again
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