…….I thought love was supposed to be a golden
rose, and the heart its vase. I thought it was to grow and the heart to beat
faster in anticipation. It is at first, but then the thorns begin to pierce the
heart and the flower’s golden hue fades into non-existence as it passes slowly
away. The heart left pierced slowly cracks as the flower dies, and then there
exists a void where once that flower bloomed. You only get that golden rose
once in a lifetime. The void never ceases to exist no matter how you try to
replace it. You will find a tulip here, a carnation there. You may even chance
upon the rarest of orchids, but you will never be able to fill the void left by
the passing of that one true love, that golden rose. You may not admit it, but
it is seen in the argument you have with your new flower, or maybe the faults
you find within it—A broken stem, a drooping leaf, a faded color. Whatever it
may be, it will cause that void in your heart to grow and grow as the crack
widens. If you ever find your golden rose, cherish it for what it is and
nurture its growth for your growth depends on it as well. Then again, I am
nothing more than a raving lunatic.
When I was young, I believed that love in its
purest form was simply loving someone and not expecting anything in return.
Simply loving a person because of who they were and how they affected your
life. Loving them for the sake of loving them. That can be a painful kind of
love, for at some point you start to want the object of your affection to see
you, and then to love you as well.
I miss that pure love that heart that once beat
for someone even when they didn't know you existed.
When I was young I believed in so much. I
believed that the person you first love to was the person that you would spend
your whole life with. That's what I knew in my heart. I found out all too
quickly that was not the case. That knowledge damaged my whole belief system,
and yet to this day I still yearn for that dream. That the person I lie beside
will be beside me until I pass from this earth.
As a child I saw beauty in almost everything,
even the grotesque. My favorite flower is the orchid for encompassing the
beautifully grotesque unique look that reminds me of love. So many colors, so
many shapes, so horrifically beautiful, as if a mad man created it from some
hallucinogenic dream where he thrashed about with brush and canvas and created
chaos from nature.
I am neither man, nor child, for I feel the
years that have passed and yet I pass through time believing in the same
fantasies that I held true as a child. I yearn for dragons, and count change to
pay the bills. I write my heart out in a dream and awake to cold realities of
broken windows and freezing winds.
