Black Rose

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You picked me up by my thorns, your fingers bled as my insecurities prickled you.
   Why did you stay? Why didn't you run away? Instead you held me in your arms, you kissed my fears until they vanished, how could I resist?
     I tried to push you away, give you someone else...but you wouldn't look the other way, your eyes fixated on mine. Why? They are so many other roses! Pink roses, cute and fashionable. Yellow roses, bright and cheerful! White roses, pure and innocent. Red roses, passionate and gorgeous.
       However, you chose me. You chose the prickly black rose. The broody, moody, hipersensitive, black rose. You made me blossom, you made me look up at the sky and smile.
        I'll be here then, to make you smile too, to embrace you with my petals as you teach me how to handle my thorns. You're my rain, my earth, my moonlight, my sunshine...and I'll always be your black rose. Your quirky, weird, black rose.

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