A single white rose,
Pure petals,
Folded with elegance,
Read as sophistication.

Represented as remorse,
For lacking devotion,
Missing kisses
From your pink lips.

Full of innocence,
Thorns that cut
Through delicate fingers,
Drawing the crimson red.

Intricate vines,
Sit in our hands,
As I twine your fingers
In mine,
Curing the cold.

Innocence is a front,
As it manipulates,
Lies,
Disguises itself as nothing more
Than a lone flower.

Draws you in with its purity,
Holds your eyes
As they light up,
A simple beauty.

A beauty like you,
Deserves honesty,
Loyalty,
And devotion.

Each petal holds
A secret,
One unknown,
Except to the beholder
Of its entirety.

I may not use words
In the right way,
Or create deep
Metaphors.

But if I can say this,
It’s that my love for you,
Can be captured
Within a single white rose.