One of thousand roses in the lea
begging you to see
small, unflourished yet
having feelings hard to set

Soil, potting in the seed
Watering me gently,
knowing roses break with ease
Pruning stems the way he likes to see

The attention he gave
or the touch that made me dazed
or the eyes I glared in way too much
and lost the consciousness I greatly clutched

Eyes made of honey
shining in the light sunny
glinting ring around his finger
making me linger...

If I were to have hands and feet
Instead of dorns and leaves
With my rosy lips...
Will he long it to be his...?

But if you touch me it will hurt you....
My dorns will pierce you
Is it selfish? I will let your hand bleed
So I can be freed

From my desires wrong
If you touch me once again will they be all gone
Or you will make me wish you more 
Even harder than before

Can i give a man everything he longs for?

Long messy, tangled hair
His red cheeks in flare
My leaves holding him whole
Making him scream out his soul

Is that what I feel, love? The one in poems, books?
Is that for what everyone looks?
Or are they words I fed
unconsciously into my head?

Or do I want them to be just of boredom and affliction
because I don't know if I can handle restriction
Can a rose feel like that towards a man?
Is it wrong? Am I to blame?