Poetry and Tea Roses

I will always disappoint you

my verse is no where near roses

pigment stained and tear smudged

overflowing with sudden downpours

a spiraling monsoon that can

not be held back with the tenderest

of sighs.

I tell lies lovingly

each line a litany of devotion

or a buzzed serendipity.

I will fall in love with the sleeved

heart of every poet.

Save me from obscurity, give me a purpose

sugary rose petals or the embryo

of a pearl washed ashore.