Thorn..
Thorn..
When you bloomed,
The thorn of yours became sharper.
A rose is incomplete without thorns.
How can you be separate from the league?
Whenever I try
To guzzle
The honey from your lips,
The thorns on your stem pierce me,
Warning me not to cross the boundary.
Smiles that adorn your lips wink,
Promising me
To give ample opportunity
In future to become uxorious
To ooze all the hidden love.
