The posings of a poet.


Like a thistle the beauty draws one in until impaled
and the intricacy could not be more exquisite than what is detailed
in the agony of realization this is fleeting
Like a rose the scent intoxicates as you draw near
and then you are pinned and the terrible joy draws fear
that all at once your soul could cease beating
Like the blackberry the fruit is not forbidden and so we grasp
at what only lasts a season and can only stain our overeager lips as we gasp
at the one time burst of ecstasy we’re eating
Like the cactus we’re often not sure what it is or what we’re meant to comprehend
so we just stand and stare as visitors and wait for all here to transcend
and pray we’ll have the pleasure of another meeting

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