by Amber Gaskins
A wilting rose is a rose.
It is still a rose, but no one wants it.
It no longer has the beauty of a healthy rose.
Therefore, the rose wilted—
because so did the love for it.
It needed care.
It needed time.
It needed the love of one person.
But the love was not blind.
The rose just needed love,
but the love was unkind.
It was abusive.
I am not sure how I came to that conclusion,
but I just knew it.
I hear the yearning of the flower.
I hear its music.
Love is a beautiful concept—
but often influenced.
True love can save the flower,
and I can prove it.
It was once so damaged,
but to be frank—
“it” is a human.
A human is a flower,
but the heart has wilted.
A lover came to save her,
and now she is blooming.
No, love is not a man—
I know someone was assuming.
Love is care. It’s kind. It’s love.
