Tell me where the bloom begins and thorns end. When does the rose turn dangerous ? Maybe it knew that it was fragile and had to create some sort of barrier from the outside world. Too pretty for the people who stare for too long and dare to pull it from the root. Everyone is tempted by such beauty until they have to actually feel the parts of it that hurt. The parts that dig through your skin and leave a mark. The parts that host a scar. And every time I feel phantom pains, I’ll remember the thorns that grazed my skin. How my flesh wrapped around it like a promise, until my brain begged it to let go. Maybe everything has some sort of danger laced throughout it. Maybe the bloom is too innocent and needs some sort of armor. Maybe one day I can live in a world where thorns don’t need to exist. But until then, I’ll gaze at the scars and simply smell the roses- I won’t be as abrasive and treat every living thing with care. The way it was always meant to be, all along . -AMT ©️