A dew kissed Dahlia standing tall,
Suddenly plucked for a love hidden in shadows.
His moist lips seek acceptance of hers,
With admiration glowing through slit eyes so blue.
Hands grasp in the dark for soft flesh
When his finger is stabbed by a sharp thorn.
Then the lights flood the quiet night,
Without a word, her eyes say it all.
A single Dahlia stands alone in a vase,
Next to a cluster of dark red velvet roses.
One, with a single thorn covered in blood.
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