Storm

In the eye of the storm
Can I escape
Unscathed
Will I look back
On this destruction
To see the rebuilding of love
Will rose bushes bloom
From broken hearts
Careful not to let anyone
Too close
Until the right one comes
With gentle hands
Who appreciates the beauty
And understands that love
Is not perfect
That thorns grow to protect
And distract
They are the storm
Surrounding the soft petals
That wrap around
What I hold most dear
At times I wonder
How many more
Of the wrong hands
Will come through
With promises
They don’t intend to keep
How many more times
Will I cut off my thorns
To wither away
In the arms of those
Whose skin bares no mark
Of the ones before
Because they
Were always taking
And never giving
And we fall for it
Every time
Because now,
We are finally
Beautiful
Exactly how they like it
Soft to the touch
And vulnerable

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