If Men Were Gods...

A hand planted rose bush,

Blossomed into promiscuous posters;

False advertisements

Of the beauty hidden deep

Battling its exterior demons

That never conquered blueprints of the heart

To acquire the treasure sheltered inside.

An ancient myth of faint wedding bells

That toll within cathedrals deemed haunted

By locals whom never stepped within

It blooms undetected

An undisclosed location,

Concocted of dreams and fears; purgatory

Bred by the breathe of inquiring women

Who failed to chisel beauty,

On statues of good men,

God built to protect wedded vows.

Entangled in gardens of overgrown roses

That prick fear into those who seek love

For it’s waits patiently

Hidden just passed their thorns

Within the bosom of a discolored rose bush

Ingrown;

Coveted in a small fracture

Of a weather ridden statue; undiscovered

Awaiting patiently to be understood

And deeply appreciated

For if men were Gods…