I wash my hands, in your ink, fast between a <br />valley, it clings to me, lives in me, my pen. <br />and Waves, that run, i float on, the rose and hand, <br />and the sun on my face, this rose a tender bud. <br />I cannot share my forest, only you may know your <br />face, and rose petals find new lips, alive in silk. <br />Pink full lips glow red and they flood my scents <br />with folded secrets, and this nose, this tounge burn. <br />Orchestras, arrangements, notes that seize a score <br />of music cleft with bars, and pink, red and sun shine. <br />Pink is always, never one to leave you on your own, to <br />find your way that is your home, out side, and Rush. <br />Pink words are royal words to some, it is rare, to know <br />another forum and compromise, this norm, why is to tired. <br />I am the male, i will wear her pink, it is my crown. <br />Roses are never found confined, when i can make her proud.<br /><br />Is It Poetry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pink-roses/
