You hold a Rose

Holding a rose-
a bitter taste lingered in her mouth,
a taste of deception,
who knew something so beautiful but fragile,
could leave so many tender scars on the soul,
something like the beauty of a rose,
but its thorns so slyly hidden-
what fools we are,
mistaking love for beauty,
yet you look on in sobriety ,
at such a lovely thing; we are deceived.
Forgetting every rose has thorns;
and accompanying love is pain-