"Guns & roses"

​by C. Ikpoh

Here we stand in the midst of our love, an armory full of guns. The walls are our boundaries. The ceiling is our limit. The floor is our foundation. Surrounding us are the bullets of our emotions. They are explosive projectiles made for destruction. Each is as deadly as the next. The myriad selection of bullets details the course we have journeyed, and the weaponry is just as lethal. They are tools born of our passion, of our desires. When loaded, they tear holes into our flesh, our minds, our hearts and our souls. We bleed until we are exsanguinated. Everything we are, everything that makes us one is spilled, painting our foundation, our limit and our boundaries with that which coursed our veins keeping love alive. As we lay hollow and departed, our bodies lie next to one another. The dead eyes beheld by each corpse intertwine, reflecting the empty windows that once housed hate, disgust and ice - all the feelings that became the architects of this armory full of guns.

Here we stand in the midst of our love, a garden full of roses. The horizons are our boundaries. The sky is our limit. The earth is our foundation. Surrounding us are the flowers of our emotions. They are gorgeous, made for admiration. Each is as beautiful as the next. The myriad trails of red pedals details the course we have journeyed, and the scent is just as intoxicating. They are symbols born of our passion, of our desires. When fully bloomed, their magic brings chills to our flesh, our minds, our hearts and our souls. We cry until we are exsanguinated. Everything we are, everything that makes us one is spilled painting our faces, our limit and our boundaries with that which represents our joy, keeping love alive. As we stand fulfilled and together, our bodies join one another. The damp eyes beheld by each lover intertwine, reflecting the lively windows that house love, lust and fire - all the feelings that became the architects of this garden of roses.

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Guns & Roses are all that we are, and I pray together the Roses far outnumber the Guns. May we never forget to stop and smell the budding flowers of our love. May the spirit of peace guide us on our journey that is traced with pedals and not bullets. May the room of our life be as boundless as the outside, and not that of a room. Indeed, Guns & Roses are all that we are. Understood, we must embrace the bad with the good as well. However, may we not take up arms against one another, yet, against the world. May we never forget to utilize the tools of destruction against those who would seek to threaten what we have built. May the spirit of war live within us and through us, so we may see the complete demolition of all institutions, both individual and of the mob, in order to enshrine the jewel of eternal bliss in the crowns adorning the head of the King and Queen. Guns & Roses are all that we are.