harm her once.
made her strip her innocence away and feed it to him like shredded paper,
but not quite as worthless and not plain.
less paper more like a canvas of vibrant colors.
take advantage of a weak flower and trample it to the ground so it's exquisite petals mash into the dirt.
ruin it because it won't fight back,
it can't.
he asked the question, her response was wrong.
it was a trick, for there was only one right answer and it wasn't the one she had given.
once more as if maybe a breeze swayed the lavender away from an incoming stomping foot, returns to destruct.
and he returns again and he will not stop until he gets his answer.
until he squashes every last drop of purity from lavender untouched. to dirt.
anyone could do such a thing but to go forth takes power. not of good. of ulterior motives and deceiving pleads.
a girl is left alone with her thoughts and what seemed so right was wrong.
she was tricked.
she had no choice, or so she tells herself.
but did she?
was being given the question and giving into the only acceptable answer the only choice?
could she have been strong and spent her time avoiding the crushing forthcoming?
is feeling like the victim just victimizing herself when maybe in actuality that's victimizing him?
he strikes again.
another flower of strength and experience and that's crushed too.
a rose of dignity and of strength.
she avoided the crushing but still felt the pain and both are more alone than ever.
but the first is decaying, the latter distraught.
if only she were a rose, so tough with thorns so confidently cascading her body and building a barrier between her and the pain. protection.
but she is lavender.
violet perfume and pollen of stardust holds no power to a man of purpose.
