Roses have nothing against you
You think that but they don't
They hide their thorns when you graze your it fingertips down their stems and dark petals
They make their color more vibrant so they're prettier to look at when you're around
They dull in color with sadness and desperation when you stop touching them
When you leave
When you left
The roses have been forever that way since
But still, their thorns pop back out, sharper than ever, when a stranger that isn't you, tries to pick them.
For they only have eyes for you.
Even if you do not have eyes for them
YOU ARE READING
storms and blood
Şiirthe death of which is unknown -figured out between the lines of within these pages
