To love him is to bleed

Grazing her delicate fingers

Over the protruding thorns

Of a rose she only

Wishes he had given her

Seeking to caress

The softness of its petals

Blushing; white tinged pink

At the curled ends

She traces the slender stem

With lines of scarlet

Every single thorn

Tearing her skin

When she finally reaches

The head of the bloom

The pain is gone; only

Numbness remains

To love him is to burn

Enticed by the beauty

Of a dancing flame

Captivated by its light

Its silent treasure…

Of what, she does not know

Moving, approaching

The swaying radiance

That seems to be forever

Calling her

Assuring her

And yet when her fingers

Deadened by longing

Seek the teasing glow

The heat sears

Numbness is gone; only

Pain remains

To love him is to suffer