i touch, but do not feel
i inhale, but do not smell
i look, but do not see
i eat, but do not taste
i listen, but do not hear
i’m alive, but do not live.
and then i meet a rose in the garden of the world.
soon i am feeling her delicate petals
and smelling her intoxicating fragrance.
i take in every millimeter of her breath taking pigment.
all i want is to look at her, because she is all the beauty i need.
i can almost taste her glamour.
kissing her must feel like obtaining all the riches in the world.
listening to the low hum of her placating voice;
there is nothing i want more then to sit in the garden and take in all her invisible mysteries.
relying on this perfect creation, I’ve never felt more alive.
she is the air that floods my lungs;
she is the steps i take throughout the day;
she is the blood pumping in my heart;
she is the thoughts i go to bed with;
she is the love of my life.
but winter is approaching, and she is wilting.
with every hardship and backstab, another petal floats away.
i collect them, in hopes of preserving her absolute elegance.
yet, i cannot accept her bloom is over.
on my last day with this pulchritudinous floret,
i notice her thorns have gone missing.

only when she has decomposed do i realize
that they are forever punctured in my heart.