I crave

I crave a rose that never fades
In my wild mischievous eyes
Petals that neither wither or fold
Nor relinquish lustre of their hue
I know that fragrant lure remains
The thorn in all that bleeds within
But no thorn could ever cut so deep
To draw such passion from my skin.
Cut these hands, but not my heart
That bleeds only for the blossom
Of you