The artwork portrays a young woman sitting on the grass with a crow perched on her hand. Both of them look at the crescent shining brightly in the night sky. — Illustration: *The Moon Asked The Crow* by Christian Schloe

We are spending more time apart than together
Playing silent games…

Are we lovers or ghosts, lighter than feathers,
Leaving nebulous stains?

Let my longing be nectar to your amorous venom,
Which leads me astray -

Our memories echo a murderous raven
Looking for prey.

Tenderness has become a torturous weapon
In your loving hands,

And I swallow my words like the earth swallows Heaven
Each time it rains…

Ceci n’est pas une Rose

01.08.202001.08.2020 ~ Veronica ~ 20 Comments

This painting features a rose blooming alone on the edge of a cliff surrounded by the sea; it is dawn, and there are beautiful clouds in the sky blending with the horizon. — *L’utopie (Utopia)* by René Magritte

This surrealistic painting captures a gigantic red rose, occupying an entire room. — *Le tombeau des lutteurs (The tomb of the wrestlers)* by René Magritte

This surreal image portrays the ocean ic beach at sunset. Instead of the sun, there is a large rose, which seems to float on the waves. — *L’invitation au voyage (The Invitation to Travel)* by René Magritte

A portrait of a woman gazing longingly at a rose in her long golden hair. There are impressionistic visions of the sea and the mountains in the background. — *Le Roman Populaire* *(*The Popular Novel*)* by René Magritte

If you were a rose,
You would hide in the dark
Until I discovered your delicate spark.

If you were a rose,
Every flower would fade,
Entranced by the perfume which you radiate.

If you were a rose,
Your soft, velvety skin
Would cover my eyes with the raptures unseen.

If you were a rose,
I would kiss your wild thorns,
Crimson with blood, as it lingers and burns.

If you were a rose,
You would bloom all year long,
Drinking my tears when I cry, all alone.

If you were a rose,
You would grow in my heart,
Entwining it gently, as you tear me apart.

My garden has blossomed 
With sorrow and loss.
Why didn't you tell me that you were a rose?