There’s a sunrise in these veins,
in frothy space cut thin as moist,
lemon moonlight deep within,
seeping through like wine,
like the dripping ceiling where I sit
as every edge serrates.
The petals wearing lipstick,
jagged liner, aren’t me.
The lemon moves and blasts us
with its effervescent space,
seeping through the room like wine,
dripping, glowing waves.
Author notes
It's not about the person who gave me the rose, just the rose itself, as a rose.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I told you I love it!
And i really do! Great job master poet friend of mine!
<3 Megan
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