Love hurts like a rose,
Seeming instantly attractive,
It too has it's thorns.
They hurt, they sting and burn,
they rip and burn.
The rose drinks the blood from you,
Constantly thirsting, never sleeping,
Morbidly deceptive and inconsistent
in it's beauties, in it's charms.
Always demanding the center
of attention, of affection.
What is wrong with hate? with sadness?
These never betray you, they never thirst
for more, happy with what they have.
Who wants love?
- Everyone-
This reminds me of a line from Sai Baba: 'Love is the rose. Lust is the thorn' But imho the rose does not want blood. The thorns have been sent by God to protect her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you've got to wonder sometimes why we crave love so much...but then, it can hold all the wonder of layers of sweet petals...great write.