With hand outstretched, I reach for thee, A rose so fair, in shades of red and sea. But as I grasp it with tender care, I feel the prick of thorns, a love affair.
The rose, a beauty sharp and bright, A love that's pure, but with a bite. For like the rose, with petals sharp, Our love can wounds, but leave a mark that's hard to forget.
...
Read full text