Love always makes me picture red roses
Even though that’s terribly cliché.
Maybe it’s all in the way
I learnt to nurture roses to full bloom.
To let one thrive?
You must deny
Others their potential, their promise,
Cutting them down,
Before they can begin…
Maybe it’s all about their thorns –
There’s tempting beauty in the harmful,
And they lose much if they’re shorn.
In particular, this leaves me torn;
How can I long for more,
More roses, More love,
When I know the more that it grows,
The more I might soon suffer?
Maybe it’s all about the constant care
Having to be consistently there.
Having to be always aware,
Of what’s best for them.
Leaving the rest for yourself.
Shelving your own health,
For a day not today,
Because what’s in front of your eyes,
And in focus in your heart,
Is where you devote all your time.
Maybe it’s all about how easily they can be given away.
Freely and without condition,
To someone who holds you in their sway.
A simple but universal way
To proclaim devotion,
Red roses equal
Passionate love and deep emotion.
Is there a more symbolic gesture to say:
You are everything to me?
Author’s note: I wrote this ages ago, just after high school if I remember right. I found it in an old journal and didn’t intend on publishing it butttttt it inspired a fun doodle so I figured, why not?