She was a flower many only dreamed of,
Petals strong, though a bit tattered.
She had lived fully, passionately

Then there was him.
He saw the best of her scars,
He loved her past and planned for the future.

Because of this she fell for him fast,
Getting lost in his beauty.
but she accepted all of him; his vibrant colors; his spines and prickles.

Most would say that they flourished,
Most would say that they thrived.
But in the dark when no one was watching,
he started to damage her sturdy stem and destroy her lovely petals.

She kept it all hidden, for none of it was his fault.
She was the problem in the garden, right? The weed?