Last Rose Poem by Brian (Yaotzu) Bungcayao

11 roses writing new rituals to the light of the rising sun.
Left on a doorstep with a million questions on a clouded mind.
A card reading no name, only words of poetry
to purge a breath from a porcelain doll.
Exhaling a blush even blind men can envision beyond the necessity of sight.
Sending shivers down her spine to her belly,
Transmitting the essence of joy through every nerve of her physical being.
Synchronizing her heart beats to the fight of butterflies.
Waiting with the final rose to end her long awaited anticipation.
Widening my arms to catch the world between my fingers.