Lauren Hudgins | Barefoot in the roses

in Poetry

In my humblest objections

to dead and perfect poses,

I stand here naked

and barefoot in the roses.

In the course of clever actions,

I stumble to what’s mine:

a quick thrust in your direction

to see me as divine.

I have no real contemplations.

My mind to you exposes

I stand here bloodied

and barefoot in the roses.

I’m on knee to your extractions.

You have choice to despise.

Then I’m failing my reflection

when I look into your eyes.

Sudden mind to mouth transactions

end matters begging closes.

Don’t throw me silence

when I’m expecting roses.

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