My mouth full of roses, 
his mouth spilling milk.
I am his Spanish mystery
on hot summer nights, 
and I am softer with my 
back bend. 
I eat romance 
like peaches and cherries. 
Sweat is holy water,
and my legs dance for him. 
Pink room; grapefruit’s color. 
I come home from work,
and I take my shoes off, 
and I put my heart in a bun, 
and I fall on bed thinking of you. 
Darling, 
my romance will never die. 
For you I will always be the rose on fire.
—  La Rosa Roja by Royla Asghar