We begin this story when our relationship was just a seedling.

A sliver of life clinging to the palpable, midnight air for survival.

The sticky heat of summer weighing down on everything.

Over time, we began to grow closer.

Our conversations were as deep as the taproots of a turnip, from the beginning.

You told me your darkest secrets and I returned the favor with all the light I had to share.

The warm caress of the sun beaming down on the embryo of our existence created sprouts.

We began to emerge as a unit from the seed.

With each passing conversation, you became less of a stranger.

And, then fear began to etch its way into our stomata.

For I realized how easy it would be to lose you.

Your mind so childlike, broken, battered, and confused.

I developed thorns in an attempt to cling onto the topsoil

and ensure the growth of our relationship.

And, also to protect myself from the predators hiding within

your heart that you hadn't even met yet.

Sepals slipped away along with each morning conversation and our seed developed a bud.

The genesis of a strong flower.

Our sepals hanging open, the beautiful body of the rose emerged like a graceful dancer

appearing for her first show.

Immediately, sweet scents fluttered through the air on the wings of butterflies.

We gave off a fragrance stronger than the most loveliest of the lilies growing nearby.

We attracted tourists with the architecture of our perfectly shaped petals.

Bees, butterflies and other precious insects flocked to us to feed their hunger.

We began to produce the sweetest nectar to ever be tasted in excess.

I began to love you. You began to let me go.

Pollinators stole your grains from me. Intruders using your pollen for fertilization in their own flower.

Talk became as scarce as our petals were becoming. Our brown petals that were once so bright red began to

dry up and crush with the mere blow of the wind.

And, with the breath of winter dancing down her stem,

the rose withered away into a period of infinite dormancy.