She was the petals,
I was the stem,
together we made roots,
connected underneath, thorns developed over time, the rose had power which she knew,
draw you in and the more it grew,
pain and pleasure both combined,
bittersweet and looks but no touch,
she stands distant but still able to struck,
some can't help it and off they try,
as soon as you hold her, the petals fall and her thorns pry,
she is breaking and withering while living this life,
I have watched and stood by her with strife,
her elegance is more lurking and capturing from the chase of eyes and hearts,
all of them dash at her stance and to get a piece from her beholding parts,
love was the way to set a motion to her scheme,
she feels only what she can and by any mean,
the folding of her presence lies untouched by all,
but I always wondered what lies past the petals and brims as I fall,
I am her support and she was my love,
but the block of a fortress she used was too strong and we broke apart and the love went away in the soil, damage as the head and memories turn to turmoil,
this she only knew I loved her so,
but sometimes it hurts more to stay than go.
