Apr 01
MyLife's picture


Love is like a rosebush
As you reach for the beauty within
You are pricked and shoved back in fear
We are always approaching it but are too afraid to really grasp it
We are always reaching for it but can never truly find it
You can try and try to get rid of it but it will always grow back
It will always be there haunting your dreams
Welcoming you, but then moving just out of your reach
Those who are able to finally reach it, discover that it isn't what it was
That it eventually, withers away unless it is constantly taken care of
That it never regains that same sense that it had when you first found it
They discover that like a rose, love is not perfect
It is not that fairy tale story but instead a prickly rosebush