We know the thorn is there, yet we still reach for the beautiful Rose...
I feel you inside me,
not flesh or bone, but there, like the air;
Present in my dreams, behind the darkness,
and in the waking light in my eyes.
I cannot hide from you,
as you hide in the places I cannot reach;
There are times when I wish you gone,
yet I know you will take too much with you.
You are not in my touch,
because I do not see you in the smile that is facing me;
You are never in my kiss,
for in this I banish everything but the moment;
I do not hear you in my whispers,
so lovingly conveyed as to be immune to your edge;
Yet here in the atoms of my ink,
I see your spark between the act and idea.
I cannot hate you like I wish,
as bricks have no strength without mortar ;
You are the thorn on the rose bush,
yet it is the flower to which I am inexorably drawn .
As essential as the sun is to the fruit,
but I seek shade from your burning and brightness;
You are a water that seeks my soul,
and I realise without me you are nothing.