Rose Patch Hands

Shall I plant a rose patch to explain your scars So the world may never know how you treat your beauty? Shall I hide the blades that oblige your compulsion To shave away the flesh that burdens you so? Shall I distract you with gold and glitter And pull your eyes away from those scarlet stains? Shall I bind you with thornless rose stems If not for pleasure, then for a moment of peace? Shall I pull down my plaques and papers So that I might trade them for your undivided affection? Shall I salve in scripture and pray to the wind That this apparent affliction may wander from you? Shall I mire in melancholia, and exchange my hope As a sacrificial lamb to ransom your amour-propre? Shall I remove myself so that I may no longer prod Your beauty to suffer the lies that only your eyes see in the mirror? Shall I plant a rose patch to explain your scars So the world may never know how you treat your beauty?