Breath of Roses
A whisper blooms in velvet red,
A fragrance born where petals tread.
Soft as silk, it steals the air,
A fleeting kiss, a lover’s prayer.
The scent ignites a quiet flame,
A dance of hearts, unbound by name.
It lingers deep, where shadows play,
And leads the soul to drift away.
But deeper still, the rose confides,
In its perfume, a truth resides.
Each petal soft, yet torn by time,
Each thorn a hymn, a jagged rhyme.
It weeps of love that burned too bright,
Of stolen days and endless nights.
The scent, a ghost, it haunts the skin,
A bittersweet ache deep within.
Through fragile veins, desire flows,
A tempest born where passion grows.
Its breath consumes, a fever wild,
A reckless hunger, fierce and riled.
Yet in its pain, a beauty blooms,
A quiet solace through the gloom.
For in the scars, the rose still sings,
Of broken hearts and mended wings.
So close your eyes, let it unfold,
The rose’s story, raw and bold.
Its scent, a tapestry of fire and soul,
A love eternal, fierce and whole.
I cranked up the intensity—layers of longing, pain, and redemption.
©oriole_b
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