<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Rosebush<\/strong><\/p>\n If we could, for a moment, Remember what it felt like, If we could, for a moment, Suppose the softness is an idea, I\u2019m not sure but whenever there seems <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ben North<\/strong> is a young, struggling writer\u00a0from the\u00a0unentertaining Midwest of the United States, or otherwise called, a Yank. Currently he is working on his first novel, Pure Nacional<\/em> which currently feels like an impossible undertaking.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Rosebush If we could, for a moment, Forget all the sounds and colors, All thoughts and desires And experience then the touch of fingers. Softness would begin the senses. Remember what it felt like, True loves first kiss, or handhold? Much like hugging a rosebush, With beautiful smells but don\u2019t move too […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9477","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9477","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9477"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9477\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9479,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9477\/revisions\/9479"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9477"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9477"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9477"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nForget all the sounds and colors,
\nAll thoughts and desires
\nAnd experience then the touch of fingers.
\nSoftness would begin the senses.<\/p>\n
\nTrue loves first kiss, or handhold?
\nMuch like hugging a rosebush,
\nWith beautiful smells but don\u2019t move too quick,
\nIt\u2019ll rip you up.<\/p>\n
\nTalk about the time it happened,
\nWhen she pressed your hand to the griddle
\nAnd it came off burned and red.<\/p>\n
\nAnd one that can\u2019t be grasped or contained,
\nIntermixed with pain, contingent on it in fact.
\nSuppose that\u2019s just the way it is,
\nFor some reason.<\/p>\n
\nTo be a hand to hold,
\nMine comes back to me once it\u2019s done
\nAnd it\u2019s not the same again.
\nWhere did my hand go?
\nWas it taken from me?
\nWho replaced it with this mangy old thing?<\/p>\n