Red Roses and Heart Jewelry

What can I say

About roses red and heart jewelry...

I prefer my lips be stained the deepest crimson, curve hugging pencil dress, sweetheart neckline, in the richest vermillion color

Squeeze me too tight, I’ll draw blood like thorns

Forever and a day, sending to me Roses

of the deepest hemoglobin hue

The go to, for you, to say I love you

Birthday, Valentines, no matter the occasion.

That trite, blase connotation

Not to knock those wonderful women,

And their feminine sensibilities

So much as their hearts can allow

Pining for noble roses, and their men,

for their svelte figures,

Meticulous nails, hair, fan fair

Of course hearts, to express their longing, appreciation, the illusive facade

Casseroles, corn puddings, and eye candy

The gentlemanly country club fellows,

The Joneses, hold in such regard.

Who could blame you, suppose you never knew

The glint of my eye, briefest blushing smirk,

Telling childhood walks for violets

Choosing each one so,

Tiny fingers pluck those juicy, fragile stems,

Razor blades of grass grazing skin.

Or the sweet fragrance of spring lilies...

Of the Valley. Drinking in their delightful, sweet aroma, my eyes dilating with desire.

Or, perhaps

The rare beauty, uncovering a river orchid,

Hidden ever so softly amongst vibrant summer blooms

Peeking out from the wisps of emerald and iolite brambles

Hung upon the angular banks where only the most brazen of fisherman may cast

Unbeknownst, even to them,

except perhaps, those fishmen who

have had the eye to notice

how the scales of a rainbow trout catch the light

viridescent, azure, rose patinated flecks, Like Roman Glass, oxidized and evolved from utilitarian to beguiling.

If you had ever watched

the way I look at the sky,

Or a joyful couple tucked tenderly together under the embracing arms of a willow

You would also see

heart jewelry is not for me

If you’ve ever heard me tell

of the books I’ve read, or took note

how enchanting

an inlay fetish of coral, jasper and shells of abalone

My hand reaches out so quietly, so softly, so not to fly away

If you want to tell me you love me

With a trinket

Or tell me I’m as lovely

as a flower

Please do not send roses

Or heart jewelry

For my heart beats for variety

The most curious of curios

the hands of man can call into this life

The expression of their most impossible dream, the absolute visceral exposure of their soul, the faint glistening of light through beads of sweat upon a sculptors furious brow

...Not for ruby red roses and heart jewelry