Thorns

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 28, 2016

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Submitted: July 28, 2016

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A rose. Such a beautiful creation of Mother Nature. One of the most beautiful things on the planet, some would say. So beautiful that songs, books, movies, and poems aren’t enough to describe the beauty of this flowery passion. It’s crazy how something so beautiful and melodic as a rose, can have prickly little thorns on the long, green stems. Such a beautiful creature, by Mother Nature herself, to remind us, that the most beautiful things have thorns.

A rose. You never know where to find the rose. Sometimes there’s dozens of roses. The roses that flaunt themselves to you. They’re pretty, of course. After all, all you want is a rose. The dozens of roses have the bright red petals, that everybody else seems to adore. They have the long dark green stems with minimal thorns. But even after all those roses seem to never attract you. There’s always one rose.

A rose. The one that you fell in love with. The rose that doesn’t have the bright large petals that everybody desires for. Instead, that rose has dark petals. The imperfect, floppy petals that warmed your heart. The tall stem wasn’t dark, like what everybody wanted. The stem to your rose was a bright green. Such a bright green, that seemed to glow around you, and only you.

A rose. The rose that stood out from all the others. The one that would hold you differently. The one that wouldn’t wilt the day after you bought it. The rose that didn’t prick you with the thorns that adorned the bright green stem. And after a while, you would realize, the rose didn’t want to prick you. And you didn’t want to hurt the rose either.

A rose. The rose that found it’s way into your heart so easily. So easy that you were so scared. No rose has every stayed around this long. No rose had ever treated you that way before. That way that made you feel, better. Better than you had in months, maybe years. The way that made your stomach burn and your heart leap. The way that even made your parents smile, because they loved the rose too. The rose that found its way to your heart would always be in your mind. The rose that found a way to maneuver its roots into your heart. And before you knew it, the rose had you.

A rose. Mother Nature created a rose with thorns. Thorns to remind us that things that are so beautiful are so painful. Thorns that you would never mind, because you loved the floppy petals that would hold you as you sleep and the tall bright green stem that intertwined with your legs. Because you loved the way that the rose would look on the kitchen table in that glass vase your parents bought you. You loved the way the rose smelled. You loved the way the rose would laugh. You loved the way the rose would say “I love you”, even if it wasn’t true. But you didn’t care, because you loved the rose. You loved the way it sounded, hearing the rose say something you’ve waiting months, years, to hear.

A rose. A rose is born with thorns. The thorns cannot be removed, the thorns will never leave. Sometimes, the thorns hurt. After a while, the thorns are in full view in front of your face and you wonder what you did wrong. What you did to deserve the thorns over the floppy, soft petals. And you cry, and hold yourself together, begging Mother Nature to bring back that rose that you loved. You would cry and beg Mother Nature to take the thorns away. But she couldn’t, because she bore him with the thorns. And you had to find that the thorns that adorned the rose weren’t for you.

A rose. A rose is born to wilt. The love that the rose carried, is gone. The aroma that the rose once gave, is gone. You loved the rose, begged it to stay, because you couldn’t take another rose wilting. But the rose didn’t love you. The rose didn’t have the floppy petals for you. The long bright stem wasn’t for your legs to intertwine. And it all happened so quick. And before you know it, you start to grow thorns of your own. 


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