UNTAMED ROSE

She is not the flame that burns for eyes —
she is the ember that remembers touch...

Behind the red silk and the quiet defiance,
there lives a girl who learned to bloom
through the bruises of perception,
through the loneliness of being desired but never known...

He sees her not as a mirror of want,
but as a storm of feeling —
a spirit with thorns forged from survival,
and petals that still dare to open beneath the moon...

In her gaze, pain becomes poetry...

In her silence, he hears the prayer of all untamed hearts —
those who ache to be seen without being owned...

For every thorn has learned to fight,
so petals may survive the night...

And in that fragile dawn between sin and grace,
she is not his possession —
she is his revelation...

“Untamed rose, you guard your flame,
soft and wild, never the same.
No crown nor hand could make you bow —
you bloom for love, not for a vow...”

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