Blossoming the rose,
her sheer petals,
they rise and enshrine
that inner sanctum.
Its folds, they are red scarlet,
in layer over intense layer,
a blanket of sweet succor,
it has come to my lips.
Drink do I,
from this cup.
A delicate petal,
soft as spun silk
rises upon the golden elixir,
lies as a bleeding heart,
upon the frozen surface
of this conjured love.