she's the last rose left in my garden.
I check on her each day since the season has changed and she continues to die and the petals I loved so much fall and fade away, but I will always look at her in the fullness I first set my eyes on. she says I annoy her and look at her weird each time I visit, yet I still think she's beautiful even when she thinks she isn't. hope she doesn't forget the beauty her stigma holds, hope she doesn't forget I'll be out there with her even when it's cold.
the last visits have been hard and she says I'm the reason her existence fades, but maybe her thorns are what's getting in the way. I'm the reason her petals grew. I seem to always destroy what I create..
but_
maybe someone else visited her..touched her petals with poison tips. maybe someone else visited her, wanting her for my favorite fruit, her lovely rose hips..