Thorns and Their Roses
It was a painful thorn that had sewn our hearts together.
Yes, that was it,
A thorn that attached me to you,
Made your hell taste like heaven.
When I left you,
The flowers in my lungs died.
And for the first time, I could breath,
Although every day I find myself missing their beauty.
But for however many of my roses die,
This is something I can be proud of.