My Rose

Enchanted by your beauty

Driven wild by your scent

You make me long, impassioned

To touch and possess you.

But when I reached out, My Rose

I bled, pierced by your thorns

In pain I could hardly fathom

How it ached more to let go.

This poem had been on my head, apparently begging to be written on paper, for days now. But since I procrastinated... However, this turned out one of the poems which are personally dear to me, probably because it seems so simple but when you're brokenhearted it becomes more meaningful. Love is like a rose in many ways: it is beauty and thorns, it pleasures and it hurts. But even love can cause a lot of pain, we hold on to it because it's too miraculous to give up on.It's worth the pain and the tears. 

Of course when love deals you crap, you realize that (as Pablo Neruda wrote) love is short, forgetting is long.

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