BC - The Rose Has Thorns
4 Jun 2003
Love is like a rose, they say. Very delicate in its budding stages. Very beautiful - with the promise of more beauty in full bloom. But be careful, they always say. Its thorns can hurt. But it's so beautiful, we say. Dealing with the thorns are worth it.
"I love you", you said, less than 48 hours since we first talked over the phone. And driven by something I couldn't fathom, I didn't want to let you go. So while I stared at the telephone receiver, I knew I was falling too.
The petals tightly cover the beauty within. The bud, while still small, hints at the magnificence of the flower and its heady scent.
At last, my heart said, I'm not lonely anymore. What a wonderful feeling! Someone actually loves me! Barely a week after we first met, it seemed like I found someone who made me feel whole. I could finally love and be loved in return. People around me found it amusing that the local "Taray Queen" actually had a soft spot. Friends were surprised that their seemingly old maid of a friend finally took the plunge and fell in love. I found myself staring into space repeating silly repartees and corny jokes in my mind. I wore a silly grin at my face for hours at a time. Your friends were surprised that you actually had a girlfriend who was as different from you as can be. But we didn't mind. Yes, we were in love.
And so the rose blooms. And it's a pretty sight - its petals unfurling, the rose releasing its heady perfume into the air. You breathe it in. You savor it.
Yeah, at our age, sometimes our friends found us too mushy and corny.I smile to myself whenever I remember how you would brush aside my always-disheveled hair from my eyes, how you would kiss me on my forehead or my hand for no reason at all, except to say "I love you". Or, I would reminisce how I would kiss the top of your head or play with your hands because I just feel like it. I would also remember your scent, or your gentle hands as they hold me close and I feel safe and calm – different from my usual "praning" state.
The rose, while a hardy flower, still has to taken cared of. So you water it, nourish it and protect it from the elements. Sometimes, while caring for it, its thorns scratch you and hurt you. But you grin and bear it, knowing that it’s part of it.
We had our little disagreements, and sometimes, big ones too – ones that nearly broke us apart. But we weathered it. We talked about it, cried about it, argued about it – everything we had to do to overcome the small and big crises that come our way. We usually come out of it none the worse for wear, knowing that it’s all part of the process. It made our relationship stronger.
But in time the rose’s petals fall to the ground. You try to give more effort to take care of it, try to save the flower, water and nourish it more. But it’s too late. It soon withers and dies.
Our small disagreements became big ones; annoying little habits became major issues. Each talk or attempt at peace was met with annoyance that sent little shards of hurt into my heart. Each petty quarrel became harder and harder to straighten out. Every irritated gesture and remark soon gave small wounds to my already vulnerable heart. My heart is already bleeding and yet you still pay no heed. I’m trying to reach out and make you understand but all that comes out of me is a stinging barb that makes you more irritated - a defense mechanism to brace my heart from more hurt. I search for a bit of kindness in those usually puppy-dog eyes but you give me no quarter. I’m at a loss. I feel and look like that first and last rose you gave me on my last birthday (after more than two years of being together) – wilted and jilted.
All that’s left are stems and thorns – and all you have left is a memory of that rose’s beauty and heady scent.
Love is like a rose, they say. Very delicate in its budding stages. Very beautiful - with the promise of more beauty in full bloom. But be careful, they always say. Its thorns can hurt. But it's so beautiful, we say. Dealing with the thorns are worth it.
"I love you", you said, less than 48 hours since we first talked over the phone. And driven by something I couldn't fathom, I didn't want to let you go. So while I stared at the telephone receiver, I knew I was falling too.
The petals tightly cover the beauty within. The bud, while still small, hints at the magnificence of the flower and its heady scent.
At last, my heart said, I'm not lonely anymore. What a wonderful feeling! Someone actually loves me! Barely a week after we first met, it seemed like I found someone who made me feel whole. I could finally love and be loved in return. People around me found it amusing that the local "Taray Queen" actually had a soft spot. Friends were surprised that their seemingly old maid of a friend finally took the plunge and fell in love. I found myself staring into space repeating silly repartees and corny jokes in my mind. I wore a silly grin at my face for hours at a time. Your friends were surprised that you actually had a girlfriend who was as different from you as can be. But we didn't mind. Yes, we were in love.
And so the rose blooms. And it's a pretty sight - its petals unfurling, the rose releasing its heady perfume into the air. You breathe it in. You savor it.
Yeah, at our age, sometimes our friends found us too mushy and corny.I smile to myself whenever I remember how you would brush aside my always-disheveled hair from my eyes, how you would kiss me on my forehead or my hand for no reason at all, except to say "I love you". Or, I would reminisce how I would kiss the top of your head or play with your hands because I just feel like it. I would also remember your scent, or your gentle hands as they hold me close and I feel safe and calm – different from my usual "praning" state.
The rose, while a hardy flower, still has to taken cared of. So you water it, nourish it and protect it from the elements. Sometimes, while caring for it, its thorns scratch you and hurt you. But you grin and bear it, knowing that it’s part of it.
We had our little disagreements, and sometimes, big ones too – ones that nearly broke us apart. But we weathered it. We talked about it, cried about it, argued about it – everything we had to do to overcome the small and big crises that come our way. We usually come out of it none the worse for wear, knowing that it’s all part of the process. It made our relationship stronger.
But in time the rose’s petals fall to the ground. You try to give more effort to take care of it, try to save the flower, water and nourish it more. But it’s too late. It soon withers and dies.
Our small disagreements became big ones; annoying little habits became major issues. Each talk or attempt at peace was met with annoyance that sent little shards of hurt into my heart. Each petty quarrel became harder and harder to straighten out. Every irritated gesture and remark soon gave small wounds to my already vulnerable heart. My heart is already bleeding and yet you still pay no heed. I’m trying to reach out and make you understand but all that comes out of me is a stinging barb that makes you more irritated - a defense mechanism to brace my heart from more hurt. I search for a bit of kindness in those usually puppy-dog eyes but you give me no quarter. I’m at a loss. I feel and look like that first and last rose you gave me on my last birthday (after more than two years of being together) – wilted and jilted.
All that’s left are stems and thorns – and all you have left is a memory of that rose’s beauty and heady scent.
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