Today, I have a taste for the beautiful and frail; the iron within the rose; the drop of blood when pricked by the artful thorn. No rose is so defenseless.
I would collect the petals in my hands only to say I held them, once.
Today, I have a taste for the beautiful and frail; the iron within the rose; the drop of blood when pricked by the artful thorn. No rose is so defenseless.
I would collect the petals in my hands only to say I held them, once.