Me and you don't have a beautiful story,
Not even one,
Not even the made up ones.
No story; Maybe just beautiful faces.
A serpent's incarnate,
You hissed your way into my life.
Each morning you woke me up with a cheer,
Made me coffee for breakfast,
And expensive cookies to complete the meal.
You ironed my clothes while I was in the shower,
Chatted our way to class; shared bags at times.
Evenings; we gossiped ourselves into sleep,
Told each other's dreams,
Prayed together, ate together.
And when I dozed off,
You covered me with a blanket embroidered with roses,
Thorned Roses.
And you brought joy to my heart,
I found solace in our small hut,
Oblivious of the impending hurt.
You struck when the time was ripe,
You had given me the longed for peace,
But now from my cake, you ate every piece.
I left you behind with my most valuable treasure,
Yet you broke my heart and fed it to the dogs,
And fed from the tree I called mine.
Thorned rose.
The two of you vowed to keep it a secret,
Never to let me know whatsoever.
But listen child,
I got wind of what you did.
It hurt; yes it did.
For months I couldn't talk about it,
The shame, the hurt, the heartbreak.
But not anymore.
Perhaps it was a burden that needed to be let down,
And your good heart let you do it for me.
Maybe you'll guard the treasure better than I ever tried to.
I don't want you to lurk in darkness waiting,
I don't want you to change lanes when you see me,
I want you to be free,
Go ahead and show your claws.
You're a beautiful rose,
Just thorned.
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