The Rose

a lone unique rose standing never really fully blooming but still holding such beauty many storms came and went through the fierce times, strongly stood the rose never fully breaking. but, building defenses growing, thorns so sharp pricking the ones too close. long days always passing watching, sharpening his blade so cunning, the handsome wolf always so patiently waiting, wanting the rose only to himself, eager and ready to cut her down seeing the rose tired of loneliness the wolf makes plotted advances using his clever wit and charm coming around always flattering softening the rose's sharp thorns the rose became so accepting ready to be loved and kept safe unsuspecting, was that slice on that dark and unforgiving day now laying on the ground completely broken and dying the rose finally fully blooms and from the soft red petals crimson tears falling spilling blood for this first love. laughing the wolf just walks away.