Creative Commons

Rose

She is a fleeting woman,
nameless.

My meaning to her?
Do I even care?
I know thorns don’t hold back
with delicacies like her.

It’s fun
for now.
Real talk. Real disagreements.
Genuine gestures. Unhinged flirtations. Monumental sex.
Selected silences,
exactly how I like it.

It all mixes together,
An aroma of fleeting dynamics.

I smell it,
it’s savoury,
non-satisfactory though.

Regardless
remember it.
It’s the least to be done.