(I know sunflowers are your favorite, but bear with me here)
what makes them alike?
it’s a legitimate question, I think
(you were both for me)
and, dear Reader, you’re wondering why.
I treated you too highly, I know that now.
You are no Queen.
(not yet)
Just a girl. With a heart, always moving, always seeking,
but never faltering in its purpose.
I couldn’t keep up.
(but I tried like hell)
You knew what you wanted. Your purpose, if not your destination.
Like roses know how to bloom. They don’t ask; they just do.
My fault was trying to pluck you from your spot.
(oblivious to your thorns)
And in doing so, I ended up hurting myself.
(but not you, thank God)
But that pain made me feel.
(it had been a while)
And I wanted more.
Always more, more, more.
The thorns became your appeal.
And I gripped all the tighter.
(until I was all but emptied)
dear Reader, I hope you know why now.
Roses and razor blades.
what makes them alike?


(they both cut)