Rosabotanica

Sour roses–the whole plant, in a pot with fresh dirt and peat moss–but soft at the opening, velvety petal smooth and alluring.

There’s a whole messy greenhouse vibe going on, horticulture herbalist smart-sexy, a bit disheveled with stained green thumbs. I’d love it on a guy, too–the mad biologist type in coveralls.

Drifts down to sheer woods on the skin in a few hours, a bit sharp at the end, the sawtooth edge of rose leaves giving it bite.

(And why is my cat so nosy about the Balenciaga botanicals?)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.