love hurts. And with that, I don't mean the blooming rose of love, I mean the thorns around it. And imagining this rose, drawing this rose is perfectly fine. But when you have a rose in real life, you feel the thorns on the steel, which of course you knew about and you imagined them and you drew them, but in real life, they sting you bloody. They can open up old wounds. They can make new wounds. And if you decide to take the rose softly, you of course can, but is it really the real thing? Have it blown outa your hand with the slightest amount of wind? But if you decide to hold onto it strongly, maybe it's beauty makes you feel no pain. It may be your anchor when it's really stormy.
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babysteps.
Poetryrandom thoughts that enter my head throughout the days which need to be written down to keep me from getting too wrapped up and now I wanna share them.
