It twirls a slow dance around your soul
before curling itself into your heart like the
roots of a tree.
As rose petals of love grow, we fail to see
the thorns until we bleed.
Roots of love torn, blood smatters the earth.
So we search among rotting leaves, hoping to find
a thread of hope.
Only to discover the roots of love are now a rope,
twisting and constricting the flow of our breath.
Those roots of love then intertwine to become a slow death.
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