Love

Love is
to embrace it
with whole body,
knowing it will be pricked.
Love is
to take thorns
to the whole body and
to bleed to death,
dreaming a ridiculous dream
of full blossom
In a desert.
Love is
to die,
believing to die is not to die

The butterfly that never loved;
its incessant flutter
in front of the Rose –
to love or not to love.

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