My desperation/
comes from a fervent desire/
to not feel stupid.

We all stand in awe/
of the sweet rose bloom we saw/
too late to respond.

It is not a late/
night bootie call. It’s just that/
I miss you. That’s all.

She doesn’t have to/
go all the way to Vegas/
to win what she wants. B-)

Of all the garden’s fair blossoms, I thought she
Stood apart as beauty’s blessed epitome`:
A rose whose fresh scent and color of deep pink
Would cause passers-by to stop, stare, and think.

Or so ran my thoughts and reasoned story
As I stood in the garden shadow of her glory.
I, whose visage and carriage drew nary a look,
who was frequently passed by in my garden nook.

Until I realized, at last, one summer’s day,
That my passers-by also ignored her on their way.
And the pain and rejection I owned so deeply
Was felt by this fair rose just as bitterly.

I learned that no matter how fair or common we as roses may be,
Our beauty fades, wilts and dies when we’re ignored completely.

People criticize/
others all the time. Why do we?/
So we feel better?

It’s the price you pay/
for being the amazing/
Woman that you are.

I can no longer/
sleep. For once, I wake before/
you, sleeping beauty.

Once again, divine/
daughters stand at gates of heav’n./
When will I go in?

1 day a prince will come/
and grab, hold and caress/
the hands that try
2 @#!*% -slap him,/
and gently kiss/
that bitter, acidic mouth./
But, 4 now, U’ll stay alone.