He appeared as a black dahlia,
bright and alluring.
So marveling at his secretly cynical exterior,
she gave in.
This is their beginning.

He gave her the world,
or so she thought.
He would kiss her heart day by day.
Who wouldn't be enthralled?
I would.

She adored him.
But did he? NO.
She was a tournament to him.
A football match, even,
but she never realized.

He cleaned her tears,
polished her heart,
and healed her scars.
But don't be fooled,
this isn't a joyous story.

Am I not good enough?
Is there something wrong with me?
What did I do wrong?
This is the beginning of the end.

Tears,
When his lips first touched hers.
Fights,
When his hands first caressed her.
Blood,
When his lies first started.
We aren't talking about our rose, however,
but another.
A sunflower.

To the insecure rose, she never compared,
to the sunflower, that is.
She had thorns,
holes in her petals, even.
She was imperfect, and she wasn't.

One sunflower then became two,
then tripled.
Till our cynical black dahlia had the whole garden wrapped around his roots.

Heartbroken and defeated,
she cut her roots.

To be free from it all was what she wanted.
To disappear and never see him again.
Oh, how she craved that.
But, no.
It didn't end there.
She survived.

Months went by without communication.
Life was good.
Peaceful.
Not for long, however.
Why?
She let him back in

She was the queen of second chances.
However, for him, she gave him many more than two.
Love does that to you.
Or should I say, attachment?

Oh, my dear rose.
Why do you do this to yourself?
Tear yourself apart,
hurt yourself.
You deserve the world.
My only wish is for you to see that.

Abuse.
Tears.
Screaming.
He got worse.

He began once again as a sweet fruit.
Luring her in faster than she could even realize.
That's when the tears started.
The abuse.
The pain.
The torture.

Would history repeat itself?
Would her attempt work this time?
No.
For she cut herself out of his roots,
and fled.
This is the end of their story.

I hope...