Rose Pluck

Pluck me the rose, if you please

Be a good sport, not a tease

Tickle my spot with her scent

Squandered lust we may prevent

Puncture my hairs with her stem

My bloodied leg a blushed hem

Her thorn a gift to my pride

A devil’s kiss on my side

So lay me back on the bed

Plant her where the sea is red

Soiled deep in my bloodied gown

Rose blooming out from my crown

Do you love how I recline

Love for you a fragrant shrine?

So burrow your lips down there

Root me up from my despair

Smile with the rose in your teeth

Bury me beneath your wreath

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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