(Emily is sitting in the gardens after a fight with James.)
The roses were in full bloom plucked and pruned into a beautiful array of contrasting colors. Normally I would admire, or at least envy their exotic collection of flowers of every imaginable hue, but I sat in the grass unmoved by the beauty. The roses themselves were stunning, but they were deceiving just like the notion of love itself. You try to pick the tantalizing rose, only to be pricked unexpectedly by a thorn that the rose had been cleverly hiding. It never meant for you to be able to pick it, it just sits there the picture of perfection, so tempting, and yet so unattainable.
MirrorScript 
June 24th, 2013 at 7:28 pm
“You try to pick the tantalizing rose, only to be pricked unexpectedly by a thorn that the rose had been cleverly hiding. ”
Ohh well done..
June 25th, 2013 at 7:06 am
Thanks 🙂
June 24th, 2013 at 8:37 pm
Ah, yes, the elusive one, the unattainable one. You have captured that unrequited love image very well.
June 25th, 2013 at 7:05 am
Thanks . I was just editing when this came to me so I had to put it in.
June 24th, 2013 at 8:58 pm
Good luck with your book “Every Rose…” Fiction definitely needs more really bad boys 🙂 Thanks for stopping by my book review blog. Keep the literary fires burning.