The Rose

I know I will bleed but I cannot resist,
The touch of that thorny rose, nor her kiss,
And wrapped within that painful embrace,
My spirit ascends with a dancer like grace.
Despite the pain I find an escape,
And the world around me starts to lose shape,
The edges get blurry and the colours all fade,
Retreating like cowards to the place they were made.
And through this confusion there is one thing that’s clear,
A thing untainted by weakness or fear,
My blood, shining claret that drips from the rose,
And the blade that has drawn it, my clarity grows
With each moment’s passing, approaching my last,
I wait in suspense for a flash of my past.
But I only see the future and what I could gain,
I gave up those chances, now I’m lost to the pain.

Love. What is Love?

Love? What is love but a chemical reaction,

A mathematical equation illustrated by a fraction.

Love? What is love but a firing of synapses,

Electrical signals with emotional relapses.

Love? What is love but an optimistic illusion,

A dream and a nightmare that’s caught in cold fusion.

Love? What is love but the skip of a heartbeat,

That’s just arrhythmia with sub-conscious deceit.

Love? What is love but the flipside of hate,

It’s a theoretical flight of fancy like ‘fate!’

Love? What is love? Is it even real?

Who knows what it is? But it’s something I feel.