Handlebar Clavicles & Etc.

She had rose petals for skin
Soft and sweet-smelling
Tinged red with the effervescence of youth
Her petals falling away
Like layers
To reveal a pincushion heart
Pricked by unapologetic thorns
For eyes she had lakes 
In the middle of February
Not yet thawed by the breath of spring 
On which she tread lightly
Making sure not to crack the ice
That is holding back 
Tsunami waves
For thoughts she had rolls of yellow crime-scene tape
She is cautious
So before life grabs on
To her handlebar clavicles
And takes her for a ride,
She will remember to wear a helmet.
Because she can't risk 
Bruised rose petals or cracked lakes
But,
If you teach her how to avoid
The thorns and cherish the petals
Or show her that sometimes
A helmet just won't work
Then perhaps her lakes will begin to melt
Deep enough to drown her fears
And she will start to weave a story
With her pincushion heart. 
And maybe,
Just maybe,
If you're lucky enough,
She'll throw caution to the wind
And take you on a ride
On her handlebar clavicles.