Two rose
From the same garden,
Painted Red.

We love each other,
Thorny,
Prickley kisses
And lots of boo-hoos from blood.

Where do I stand,
Without getting
Glazed gaping wounds?

How can I hold you?
Between numb sliced fingers?

If I love you enough
I can only appreciate,
Not swiftly pluck you
From the roots,
Spun Three-Kilometres in total.

Dunking you,
Displayed.
Kitchen table
Wither into potpurri, once agian
You are in the air.