Rose and Thorns

Shivering all alone with not even a ghost in sight.

Dying flowers and the smell of chamomile fill the air.

The widow mourns for her lost lover while the newly weds celebrate.

The circle of life can be a winding road full of bumps and potholes.

Oh, how I hate when I hit potholes.

They say when you touch a rose the thorn can prick you.

For some it seems worth it to have beauty for pain.

A crown of thorns made for only the wicked to wear.

Didn’t He die for our sins?

Didn’t He endure torture because he loved us?

To be loved is to be wanted and to be wanted is to be needed.

Maybe I am not that girl.

What if I never feel that?

What if the feeling of love alludes me?

Why do humans ache for this feeling?