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A love like a Rose
A delicate rose,
its beauty is like a fiery, angry, sunset.
One could say that it fits you perfectly,
like the exact definition, of natural perfection.
But a touch,
of its stem,
will leave you bleeding.
The blood dripping from your fingertips.
How you didn't think before you picked it up.
Hypnotized by its, indescribable beauty.
Where it looked so harmless, and fragile.
But now has caused you pain.
As you trace your finger along its pedals,
leaving smudges of what you once loved along the edges.
from this day forward, a rose is to be examined,
but never plucked.
because roses,
are dangerous to hold.
