More Than a Rose, Less Than a Posy
More than a rose is my love for you,
so how can it be that your heart is less true.
Yet, deeper in me, stirs the passion of baalim,
while your burning flamed fire has started to dim.
The petals that fall from this bud to the ground,
what's left, the remnants of the love that we found.
In truth, my desire, a single red rose,
boldly festers my limerence as my yearning grows.
You spoke of our love as if it were wrong,
and the passion we had could not keep it strong.
Now you stand there weeping, all adorned in white,
don't think that your tears have belittled this slight.
You have made it clear while your feeling departs,
how my now broken heart is missing some parts.
To me, you are more than a bud, red and rosy,
but unlike your bouquet, I am less than a posy.
02/06/2021
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