tmbt: pink rose body
The most beautiful thing I smelled today was the pink roses swimming in water, pressed into oil, mixing with skin and sweat. And these are the moments I keep for myself in the early afternoon, in the weathery nights, in the morning before morning breaks. The sweet musky moments that employ only my own hands, my own thoughts, my own future. In the afterglow it lingers softly in the air and I am reminded of the hands that came and went and came again and there is still no white horse riding off into forever. So these are mine and mine alone, the petals falling slowly as if held by an upward wind and the stems strewn gingerly in the glass for the earwigs and ladybugs to chew upon, these are the moments beautiful as they can be without you to share them. As beautiful as they can be. Beautiful and pink.
Photo by Graham Owen.