Taking her sit by the window, just before the Sun wakes, she produces a soothing scent, refreshing my airwaves, and gradually intoxicating my senses as she runs her soft fingers across my skin. Tenderly and calmly, she sprinkles her wetness on me, slowly wrapping her gentle petals around my fragile skin, reminding me of moments long forgotten; there is always peace in this troubled world.

And as I wake, a stare at her produces feelings inexplicable, words unworthy to be heard from my mortal lips, and desires my heart won’t describe, but more amazing is when she stares back, silently whispering, she understands, and constantly assuring, she is my peace in this troubled world.

Gently and slowly plucking her from the bed, mildly and softly cuddling her, I could feel her life force coursing through my skin, brightening my eyes as clear as day, and producing a smile at the corner of my lips. A symbol of love, a symbol of perfection, I thought, a symbol of hope and a symbol of everything different. And why she is busy making my whole world bright, I realize, she is not too careful in concealing her own thorns.

All her days are spent in pleasuring me, lighting the dark corners of my world, and producing love unmatched by any other. My happiest moments are the highlights of her day, making me forget the demons of my nightmare, yet, she is never too afraid that her thorns will one day ruin her beauty.

This is who she is; love defined, hope personified and still, an epitome of imperfect beauty. And while she comforts me daily, her is never without her own struggles, managing to keep her nightmares at bay while constantly working to complete me. Ridding her of her thorns will make her less complete because this is who she is, and I have come to love and her accept her for all that she is.

And whenever she stares and smile at me, I do always remember, she is my peace, and will always be my Rose.