PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Roses come in different colors,
and each color means something different.

Love comes in different types,
family love, love between friends, love between couples.

Roses are precious, and we always try to make it last,
blooming healthily.

Yet it either withers, or petals fall,
one by one, slowly coming apart.

Love is rare, we always try to keep it alive,
yet sometimes it dies anyway.

Roses leave behind their fragrance, their simple elegance,
just as love leaves behind memories.

Yet each rose has thorns, ones that prick our fingers,
leaving behind a sting and drips of blood.

But do you know why we tolerate those thorns,
those stings of pain?

Because, like these brief stabs of pain,
love reminds us that we're alive, lets us feel.

Even for the brief time roses last, the pain,
the beauty is worth all the ability of being able to feel.