They were the gentlest of things,
silken, dewy, starkly crimson against the white
of her naked form.

Her body rippled (wildly, deeply) and
with a soft caress, the rose petals
slid across her skin--
strewn colour like a roaming blush,
her velvety moan catching the room unawares.

It seemed to spread in the spaces
filling the room with an intoxicating heat--
heady and alive, waking repressed desires
and something innately more innocent
yet compelling--
brewing in her dark eyes
alight with fireflies.

A name slips passed her swollen lips.
(Her body, unfurled against soaked sheets,
a Rose by any other name.)