red rose

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in a language,
i understand,
the red rose,
speaks to me.
everyday,
in ordinary time.
the thorns,
pierce my tongue.
the pedals,
dry my brow.
it eases,
my breathing,
when my oxygen,
is frozen.
my heart beats,
red rose blood,
from kingdom come.
i enjoy my liberties,
my bohemian tragedies.
the stem draws,
sweetness,
through my
crooked veins,
to the flower.
i blossom,
like free art.

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