Roses Into Rosebuds

Roses turn into rosebuds moving like
The sea breathing scents I miss.
Brushing my senses flawlessly to make perfect
Seem like a flaw.
Can’t describe the awe as inspiring, just something I need.

A perception perceived with accurate precision.
I fall inside, never looking up.
I fall outside, never peering in.
Because truthfully, I don’t care what happens.
As long as the happening begins..
And then,
We fall. In some sort of love.

And I say,
I love you.
And you say,
I want you.

The feeling just permeates, without negation.
Without….the sensation of loss.
I criminalized this feeling only so far as
I became my own judge, jury, and prison.
Inside. The wanting.

Roses turn into rosebuds moving like
The essence raging freely into my
Tumultuous emotional tributaries.
Flogging me into submission, making me think
Submission is good…needed…
So the crave can be – heeded to.

And I can’t deny,
I love you.
I want you.
And you say,

Nothing.