Tell me..
What possibly
could be..
more beautiful
and giving..
than a rose?

If anything,
then it must be..
The Rose
that you
are given
privilege..
to carefully
de-thorne.

Article by article,
until she’s naked..
naught but smooth
and silky skin
upon the skinny flesh
that dresses bone.
And pale as Death..
And doth a man
need any more?

Than crimson petals,
appetizing to devour..
Than bareskin beauty
for this humble poet
to both savor
and deflower?