Chris Yellow

Your thorn brought in the world

Hidden inside a cocoon,
color wouldn't breach in
all I saw were the shades
the world made on the walls.

Curious you shook the whole,
as a child would Christmas morn,
a muffled dead echo was all,
but got you to kiss my skin.

Your pointy curved thorn
rubbed my projection screen
and freed me from the gloom
tore the fabric off scene.

My wings liberated to spread
made your eyes bloom.
I cannot understand why
but I filled your blue sky.

All the while your kiss,
it still brings me to tears
as it is ever more dense
with the wet grass scent...
the fountain water splash,
the sparrow flappin' sound,
the moist of the breeze
from this roses ground.

You bloom in me ever more
more than I thought would fit,
and which is strangest of all
started with a kiss from a rose.

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