the queen of the rose 8

The resonance of your beauty is ultra violet

It cuts into the composition of even a stone

Then when it is entering a much softer heart

It cannot pose a little obstacle to impede its prowess

God has created you only to be loved

 For match sticks are created for match boxes

 But if you strike your love mercifully upon me

We are complete that are made in ties

The first tier that a lover must trespass is confession

Yet the words are stuck in-between my tongue

Losing those words to barren futility

Traps the courage I need to negotiate

When a man owns up to reveal his feelings

The truce might be less productive of its aim

So my heart still takes to a war with alms

In the inner battle to confront my capabilities