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Flowers Grow In Unusual Places

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Red is commonly attributed
With passion, and in most
Cliques -
Red comes in the form of roses.

Beautiful rarities,
To grow from sincerity
That defines our very being,
As we learn and grow -
As that seems to be the only way
We know how to love.

They say people see and
Experience things differently -
And for me,
Red illustrates love, and
Roses characterize the beautiful
Irony that comes with
Appreciating beauty, and
The flaws that come with it.

Embedded in my heart -
The seeds from this wonderful
Vitality, sprouting roots
To grow around my
Ribs - lining my bone, with each
Thorn pricking at my lungs
Making the air around me
Seemingly harder to breathe -

I chose to wear my
Heart on my sleeve,
To leave those roses exposed -
Open to you, my dear
Admirer - as I can only hope you’ll
Stay, to take your time and
Stop to smell the roses.

The red of the rose deepened
When you interlaced your fingers with mine -
Fresh roots grew from our
Intertwined grasp as
You became an extension of
Me - taking your time to
Touch my heart

You went out of your way to pick
Roses for me,
Your nimble fingers bled from the
Thorns - as I sat there and
Smiled, while I ached from the roses
You picked

You took your time,
Sorting those roses the way
You know I love -
Although, the last thing
You wanted to do was to count those
Petals, day after day

You handed me a bouquet of those
Vivid, red - hand picked
Roses, my heart began to wilt -
The roses left to line my heart
Lost their gleam as they
Slowly turned brown,
Decaying -

I held back my tears as I
Received that beautiful bouquet -
Grieving from the love
I’ve grown so comfortable with.

And in that moment,
I couldn’t help but think,

“He loves me, he loves me not?”

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