Your only Rose

I just wish you loved me as if I were your only rose!



My gallant paladin,

Love me, completely and utterly,

Cherish me like your eyes.

Bring me a lance of molten platinum,

Bring me a liquid gown of ice that will not melt

Bring me a dress of golden flowers, with neither stitch nor seam

Bring me a crown of moonlight I can touch and wear

Bring me the moon itself on a chain

Brave for me the trials of hell.



My gentle paladin,

Beautify me,

Pleasure me above all other flowers, that I might be the radiance of every star's fantasy.

For I am

Resplendent, Incandescent, Ethereal

Only me. The only rose.

No silent, passing praise for me, oh no no,

I want the monopoly, the riveted abhorrent jealousy from others when they look upon my exquisite self.

Do behold their spiteful malcontent, evoking in me a frisson of joy, so delightful it is to my gleeful eye! I would be pulchritude itself, empyreal gift on earth, the only, the one, the single.

Rose.

I rememember past the hideous, drooping stalk, hanging low and withered as dried up skin. The pitiful crackle of dry leaves crushed. The bald flower bereft of its crown.

The seizing laugter of corruption.

By any other name would it smell as sweet.