my heart was a rose — deeply and desperately rooted to the ground, and you saw it, and you were enchanted, and you took it and gently pulled it out, its thorns made you bleed throb wince, but still you kept it, still you watered it and put it under light and nurtured its petals, you dug my heart some new soil for it to ink into, a new place, a new safe haven, you showed it off to your friends and oh —
how it adored feeling beautiful
and then
one day, you came to it with pliers in hand, and you cut off its thorns, snip snip snip, every single one, until it was naked and vulnerable, but to you it was even more beautiful, now people could touch it and see it and hurt it without getting hurt in return, now it had nothing to protect itself with
and it believed you, my heart let people stroke it and pick it up, until slowly, ever so slowly, it began to drown in the afternoon you gave it, to burn under the sun, to waver in your hands, to suffocated in the new soil you dug
my heart was so strong and pretty when you found it
and it wore its thorns like armor
but it was also afraid and broken
and it fell in love with you
then you cut away what gave it strength
just so it could be prettier
but what good did it do?
because eventually, the petals of my heart
silky and pink
they withered away