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The Secret of Rose Petals

June 24, 2020



Rose petal jam...


The pink, shimmery, quivering, transparent, silky substance in my teaspoon, dotted with translucent fragments of veined veils, the petals themselves... A taste, a heady infusion of nectar and perfume, climbing in bewildering waves up the nostrils... the brain an explosion of roses. Deep red, purple, white roses, delicate pink shrub roses waltzing in a whirlwind of sea breezes and yearning for the sky, this sky elusive and yielding to the Black Sea, both melting forever in each other's blue embrace.


In this unexplored, beckoning corner of the garden where roses dig their thorns into the salty lust of sky and water, drowsiness and invisible arms of fragrant heat cradle unnamed longings, sun dives into sea in voluptuous suicide, and petals fall with the weight of their succulent fate...


The pink silk is sliding down my throat... In the relentless light over this landscape of indirect confrontations where action is serpentine and time ripens slowly in infinite nuances, every gesture, every blink carries the risk of revelation... Because here within the sacred scrolls of rose petals lies the secret of subtlety and abandon sealed in delight and pain.


I taste the secret again, its trail of sweetness is neither saccharine nor satiating... pink caresses glide down my throat, an invitation...


...Black Sea waves singing of petal tenderness and sting of thorns, daring me to surrender to both...