Thorns
tore his skin as he fought
his way to the sleeping princess
Thorns
ripped his hair
snagged his cape and clothes
Thorns
grudgingly gave way to his sword
and for the first time in twenty years, he felt
alive
kissing her awake with bloodstained lips
Later he cherished the thin
scars
on his arms and face, visited the garden
just to close his hand around the
rose
stems. each kiss of pain brought him back
to the day he’d found himself, fighting through the
brambles
On their wedding night, he presented a
bouquet to his bride
Needle
pricked herself, and ever-perceptive, she snipped
the blooms with her embroidery scissors, offering him the
thorns