i saw a flower one summer evening.
it was dusted in yellow speckles of pollen upon it's beautiful blushing pink colour.
i picked it; it's sharp thorns digging into my skin-
pain so simple and delightful it was hard to say i wasn't in love.
and when i got home; i put it into a vase and day by day
i watched the leaves fall off onto my glassy wooden floor
and even though it was shedding and dripping petals-
it was still pulchritudinous
like our love.