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Phil's P.O.V.
Home is not where I expected to go. I hardly go there if I can help it. But after the night I had, I had calmed enough to come back. Home for me is a rose. Harmless to view yet painful to hold. The rose would not be difficult to obtain if not for the thorns surrounding it. So many thorns for such a small rose. I will not know what it is like to hold that rose. I cannot fight the thorns, for there are too many.
I am a storm. I go through and leave a disaster. How I breeze through without a care, and destroy so much. I don't mean to it's just in my nature. So I don't call him. I wouldn't want to see him struggling with the aftermath of the storm that is me.
I see a flower on the pavement, and that is Dan. So perfect, so bright yet surrounded by dullness and darkness. A pink rose in the city. Lying there unsure of what to do. And it is blown away. With London winds nothing stays for long. Everything leaves eventually.
