Roses eventually wither.

Since I was a child I've always hated the thought of love, I was quite skeptical that someone could spend their whole life with you without eventually getting annoyed. A few moments around people and I'd wish I could bite back all my words. They slipped out before I could stop them, then the comments would start, 'She never stops talking, does she?' and, 'This is why children are meant to be seen and not heard.' I kept a leash on my tongue and punish myself for every slip up. After all the criticism, my heart would melt at every compliment given to me. Their words would fill all the cracks in my glass heart. Middle school thought me that words, sweet as honey, could easily mean nothing.

My dad went on long business trips. He'd always come back with something new. Dolls, clothes, books, every time he came home he'd never come empty-handed. It wasn't the money that excited me, it was the fact he'd get different gifts for each of us. Personalized gifts. My best friend would write me letters, beautiful, decorated ones. It made me feel valued. Until she and I grew apart, I didn't mind much. Sometimes it just isn't meant to be. She eventually made a new best friend, and wrote her the same words.

I never liked being touched, their hands would stick like slime and would terrify me with each touch. They never knew when to stop. I couldn't say no because apparently, family is family. No doesn't apply.

Roses wither eventually.

Words are riddles.

Touch glass with too much strength and it'll shatter.

But I'll be the happiest girl in the world if you'll watch the sunrise with me and the two of us can dance under the comfort of the stars.