I can't get myself to allow another human to hold my heart.

Not because of the fear that they might break it.

Instead that my broken heart, in pieces, shaped with sharp edges will hurt them.

Take a rose for example, it's thorns prevent you from holding on to it, you might put up with a cut or two but after a while no matter how beautiful the rose is - you will let it go.

As the rose is better enjoyed admiring from arms length, so am I.

As the rose grows until picked by someone elses hand, so am I.

So let me go. Let me grow.

Admire from afar. I've seen my mark in too many people's scars.

John Paul Fraser (c)