To A Wild Rose

You my dear are a rose petal in the wind. You are not firmly attached to the stem in which you came, therefore, you are free to flow the breeze to wherever you please. I am the witch’s tree. The dead mass that resides firmly planted in the middle of the forest floor. Unappealing to the naked eye with my warty moss coated exterior. Like the paper you write on, I am stationary. Always here to feel your breeze flow through my blackened branches as they reach up to touch you. As you travel on I remain behind, but never forgotten. 
Your smile is as bright as bright as the midsummer sun, yet it illuminates the night like the fullest stage of the moon. Your eyes resemble the calm sea, and those that dare sail across them find comfort and solace. I am the ominous storm that approaches in the night, leaving the world cast out into the darkness. I hide your stars and disturb the calamity of your tranquil waters. When day breaks your sun remains shaded by my vast amount of gray clouds. I leave your world in shadow, and the more light I put out; the closer I get to you. That is when the rain begins to fall. 

You are a home that is filled with the scent of warm chocolate chip cookies. Within your walls, it can be messy with dirty clothes and dishes to wash, but your home is filled with much more than these tedious things. Looking through the windows of your foundation the outside world can see kindness, laughter, but most of all love. Your home is a representation of you, and the fire is always burning and beating bright at your place. I am a deserted building on the coldest days of January. My fire had ceased to ignite years ago. I am a pile of brick stuck together by hardened cement. I have begun the process of decay with my hallowed door frames and cracked floor boards. The outside world does not stop to look within my shattered windows because they do not find a warm and inviting friend here.

You were looking for something new; I was searching for a wondering soul. Our paths crossed and I found what I had been searching for. You decided to try out the things that you saw in my world. It was like watching someone play dress up, but I watched the lasting effects that acting the role of someone else did to you. I was selfish, you were so warm and naïve. I took you by the hand and pulled you deeper and deeper into my world. I watched you try different remedies, jumping from one thing to the next, never saying focused on one thing for too long. Your childlike self-began to grow old as it tends to happen when exhaustion sets in. Your glow began to dimmer until you shone like a single lit candle flame in the night. I knew I had taken you too far when the breeze that had once carried you, now threatened to blow your light out.

 I carried you out of my world and sent you back into yours. I watched you stumble and fall, now clumsy in the world you had left behind for mine. Your naïve nature had been replaced with skepticism and caution. A tear fell down my face, and for the first time in a long time my cold condensed heart ached for what had been done to you. Before I left you, I filled a cup halfway with water and gave it to you asking you to describe it to me. You looked at me with a dampened heart and said “it is half empty.” My eyes found yours and I was reminded of the wandering sea that had brought me to you. Now, those eyes lied. They told me what they thought I had wanted to hear, though they themselves did not believe it to be true. You brought a smile to my face and with a low chuckle I whispered, “my dear, do not try pessimism, it just doesn’t suit you.”