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?
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