Roses Aren'T The Same After Angels Poem by Ricardo Chevere

The mind cannot be separate from the physical. When I touch a soft velvet rose it excites my skin to a warming shiver, as if touching your blushing skin, a warmness I savor.
Smelling a rose, an airy aroma arouses my mind, penetrates my skin, simmering my blood over a feverish thought your perfume sweeping me away for a night.
Crimson of a rose, so striking, draws me in, both sight and mind, pulling memories of passion urging me in your naked presence, never easily forgotten, not an angel near could steal this awe.
By no coicidence I compare a rose to you. My hands, my taste, my smell, my eyes wrapped by your loveliness. I submitted to what's divine. You see my mind has to judge by highest standards, your touch turned my mind to gold and my skin to silk.