Broken Rose In a Bleeding Hand

by

Theresa Cecilia Garcia

I don't know where I'm from.
I wasn't born anywhere.
You ask too many questions.
Do I have to clarify myself
in order to dignify myself?
While seduction screams!
Come to me my wanting one
we'll rip and lush that erotic hush.

Where bleeding hands reside
Inside a rose of thorns .

The kiss rocked him, everywhere.
He deepened it.
"I...you'd better go."

What you don't give freely
I'll take freely.
Try and run
I'll hunt you down.
The devil's got good instincts
for fresh blood!
The fusions of two unknowns.
Hot and wet passion collide.
Can I taste you please?
Feel the temptation .

While bleeding hands reside
Inside a rose of thorns

The scent of baby powder.
The exotic perfume .
Her warm allure on his senses made him shudder.
All the palavar about the terms existence and being,
he never felt more alive than when he was in her presence.

The soul alive!
Grinding harder
even faster !
Furious rage unleashed!
Take it hard and raw.
This is no dream,
I want to make you scream!

Where bleeding hands reside
inside a rose of thorns

Now I'm yours to keep
you're not alone.
The mirror awaits.
I'm the face that you see when the face isn't yours!

Where bleeding hands reside
inside a rose of thorns

Home once more .
She looked toward the door.
He was staring at her.
Putting the coffee cup gently back
on the battered coffee table.
A cool tinge claimed her mouth.
The occasion might commemorate a wedding anniversary,
instead he chose to juggle the day and flee.
The devil's snare is stong !

Broken Rose In a Bleeding Hand

She sat up
daring a surreptitious glance his way
only to find herself still the subject of his unnerving stedfast stare.
"Here I am."
"Is everything under control?"
Bringing herself back from catatonic reality,
she responds...
"I hope your day was not too rough."
He wasn't sure what possessed him
and nearly growled in frustration.
"Look, I,
I love you."
and out of sheer automatism
she whispered
"I love you too."
Without a sliver of truth from her displaced heart .

Broken Rose In a Bleeding Hand

Home is a void

Where bleeding hands reside
inside a rose of thorns

NEXT?
Why don't you look at That "Golden Day"
by: Joyce Hemsley
from: Sunderland, England, UK

To visit all of Theresa Cecilia Garcia's poems, click HERE

Check out these deals at Amazon.com

...the best independent ISP in the Twin Cities

To write us about this page,
contact willy@dreamagic.com (Willy Chaplin)