You remind me of a rose.

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Beautiful, enthralling, and something I'd keep for as long as I could.

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Like a rose—you're someone that I'd look forward to receiving, but always fearful to take.

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You're someone ever so lovely that I want to keep safe, yet also someone I might only leave wilting and get stuck in between pages of my favorite book.

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You're someone I have daydreamed to see outside the door to give me hope, but also that someone I can't let myself in for I'm afraid that you'd torment me in time, in every possible way.

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Like any other roses—you have thorns.

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It’s not that I don’t want to touch nor hold you, I was rather afraid that doing so would only hurt me and that’s the least thing I’d ever want to feel right now.

 

You remind me of a thorny rose.

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With flaws and all, I have adored you.

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With worries and fears, I couldn’t stop admiring you.

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With doubts and hesitations, I fear to take and let you in.

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You’re a beauty worth admiring, keeping, and loving.

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But perhaps… I wasn’t the kind of woman who could treasure you.