Thrown Roses Poem by Amouta Stardancer

I’d never love a rose,
roses can’t kiss back,
what a thing to love,
that leaves up such slack?
No I’d never give a rose my heart,
red as it may might be,
a rose will wilt and die in days,
and leave a heart similarly.
Petals fall as blood does drip,
bleeding over wounds of scorn,
inflicted all unknowingly,
by thoughtless, careless thorns.
But do not be aggrieved, my love,
that I dash your roses back to land,
for when you’re near enough to touch,
I’ve better uses for my hands.