Withered

In my memories you exist like

the sharp scent of an overblown rose

and the sting of thorns.

You tamed the tangled garden of my soul

but plucked

my buds

one

one.

By mshipstory

Hi!

I'm Lindsay Adams. I'm passionate about history, teaching, and writing.

Amazing, every rose has its thorns.

Such a powerful metaphor for a painful old love.