Thorns

There are thorns more cruel than those which grow
on scarlet roses. Invisible but sharp
their barbed and treacherous weapons pierce my heart
and cause more pain than you will ever know.
You choose to blush and say it is not so,
that you would never think, when we're apart,
of dallying with any young upstart,
and yet that blush has set your face aglow.
I would that it was caused by none but me,
that I alone could light your inner fire
and fan its flames. Who's kindled new desire?
What young and foolish lover could there be
who captivates, then makes of you a liar
bent on making sure my eyes won't see?