I only grow flowers with thorns.
Beautiful from afar,
Their petals softer than skin after shea butter,
But poison to the touch.
Their scent so captivating,
You can't help but search for it,
Only to be knocked out once found.
Those brave enough to pick up the stem
Will always regret it.
These thorns are razor sharp,
And they love to embed.
They've never seemed to bother me though