We were both love. I was a rose and you were a snowflake. Both beautiful and gentle but unable to coexist effectively because flowers can’t blossom in the cold.
Yet when it ended, the truth became misconstrued.
Suddenly I was a thorn that pricked you till you bled.
And you were frostbite that nipped away at my skin.
We created false portrayals of each other to make this all a bit easier to deal with.
But the truth will always stay.
We were both beauty, purity, fragility, love.
We just weren’t meant to give our love to each other.
And now we both bleed, because the hardest part is accepting we were never meant to be.