Roses And Thorns

from the middle how it oozes dark rich blood it runs from red puffy lips how they shine raisins dried in the sun lolly pops are not always blue and pink not as red as her sweet wine sucking noises soft whimpers and quite cries yellow hearts that stained how they cry they both/know that but it is with salted palms hers a very small hued rustic mask that hides it all roses and a thorn cause it to bleed 'roses'—only 'lily' knew he expanded you you washed it off my finger moves her back against the wall and when I'm done she can see how she became the beautiful woman that she is.