the tender rose of my sweet and silent dreams?

For her beauty is, I confess, is more than can be told,

For in the quiet of the secret night, and ever so bold,

she, in silent dreams would softly undress.

Petal by petal, for me she would peel,

Unashamed of her inner self to reveal.

Till at last before me she stood,

stripped bare of her glorious womanhood,

revealing now unto me her hidden self.

 Her frame was spindly, bent…twisted and worn.

and along her curves one could see not a single thorn.

For it was plain for me to see,

what life’s struggles to had in secret done.

She spoke of loss; and told me tales of excruciating pain.

 she cried blood soaked tears of yesterday.

Yet with me, in the silence of my dreams,

She was at last free.

So tell me my friend,

Have you seen her?