When Roses Don't Bloom
My body is an unopened rose.
A beautiful light pale pink rose.
In the futile soil.
I am almost dead.
Too much rain and not enough sunlight
Have almost wreaked their havoc on me.
It has been many seasons since I have bloomed.
Six to be exact.
Opened fully, felt the warmth of the sun.
No one has seen my naked body
No one has touched me deeply
No one has tasted my sweet nectar
No one has caressed me softly
Touched my tan skin, suckled my brown nipples
Looked at me with desire.
Touched me inside or outside.
Kissed these full lips
Tasted my lovely mouth
Kissed my soft delicate sensitive neck
Teased my thighs
Or lain with me or wanted me
Or desired me for so very long.
I forget the sensations.
What does that feel like again?
What do tongue or fingers feel like?
How does it feel?
I kind of can't remember or recall.
It feels as though no one has really loved me at all.
I'm just a ghost. An apparition.
The ground I live in is cold.
This body never blooms.
My rose never opens.
To show you it's beauty.
To share it's scent with you.
It just stays unopened by the other beautiful roses.
I long to open up.
To show my petals
For someone to see my beauty
To touch me, to please me
To enter me again.
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