The grey veins snake
across the white flesh of your skin
its satin texture unaffected
Your slender neck unadorned
save for your high emereld neckline
the wind blows
pulling us closer together
the obstacles in my way
prevent my advance
my feet firmly entrenched firmly in my own life
estranged lovers
but that is our curse i supose
that our kind can live and create on our own
but even the white rose becomes lonely
