It hurts when we hold hands
I can feel the coldness in your stem
It's the source of your emotionless pattern
Your leafs pulled from past handlers
Your thorns ***** me like the ***** you called me
Hoping I'll let go
But I only tighten my grip
Even if I have to endure the pain
Afraid of losing your scent
The sweet smell of precious nectar  
I've memorized it
The feel of your petals
The beauty in your color
I douse you in love to keep you alive
I want to fuel you like the sun
I want to be the reason you bloom in spring
But the more I invest, the quicker you wilt
You dying in my hands

I am not the curves of my body.
I am not the clothes that I put on to hide those curves.
I am not the person you think I am when those clothes do not do an adequate enough job for your liking.
I am not what you think about me.
I am not what you say about me.

I am not this outer shell that you see.
I am not my sexuality.
I am not any of those things you use to label me.

I am smart, sometimes capable.
I am thoughtful, sometimes brilliant.
I am sarcastic, sometimes caustic.
I am phenomenally woman.
But what I am is not any of those things.

I am not my thoughts.
I am not my jokes.
I am not my words or even my actions.
I am not any of the things I use to label myself.

What I am runs so much deeper.
If you get to know me,
Draw me out of my core,
You might be able to see it.
You'll know when you've caught a glimpse.
The indestructible, indescribable..
The exquisite, the beautiful...
The part of me that has always been and will always be.
The part of me that lends everything to itself.

So don't try to describe who I am.
Don't try to label me.
I am not a convenient definition for you understand.
I am so much more.

The green and the gold
Worth more than you are ever told
But you're not so bold