Anyday, now –

I could offer you a wilted rose, that has,

For days and nights stood dutifully on the window ledge.

You sometimes shake my core until I feel

My mind, cerebrum becomes dormant

In a cataclysmic inner failure. I wonder

if, by chance, you’re trying to be 

flirtatious.

I could admire your body, how sacrilege!

And comprehend, feel, love you intensely.

Love?

It’s plain oddity.

People, we use it to describe something that they don’t get,

Are you my Laùra? 

Are you trapped in poetica, never to clinch an attempt to escape,

And be less temporary?

My God –

Love is illusory, perhaps, maybe, to those who core it, cut it,

And the rose? It’s wilted.

Anyday, now.