I stand in the middle of a garden with you by my side; i look at the roses and i look at you. i see one difference: your beauty never dies. your love will never dry, you will always be my rose.
i stand next to you and see how you look at the flowers with such awe; you don't realize i look at you the same way. i see you turn, locking eyes with me; i feel the warmth of your gaze and i know this is love.
you turn around and i feel the rush of cold. where did it go?
i don't care where it went, my eyes are still on you.
like a rose, you draw me in with all your beauty and just as i take a step towards you, your thorns grasp me ...i see the blood dripping; just as the wounds start to close, i begin to see the scars engraved with everlasting memories of us.
i don't like remembering them, i like living them, so i go back for more and my wounds reopen, leaving them vulnerable to the salt you love pouring in my flesh.
people say time heals all wounds, but what if you keep opening them? they say you can't go back to what hurts you, but what if it's the only thing that makes you happy anymore?