She was delicate, gentle, beautiful.
Soft to the touch, with an enticing, pleasant fragrance.
Her milky white complexion was flushed with rosy cheeks.
She radiated love and passion, yet embodied purity.
Her simplicity was delightfully romantic.
She was the most elegant, picturesque being I had ever laid my eyes on.
Yet, she came with thorns.
An uninviting, displeasing feature that masked her extraordinary beauty from others.
Providing protection from the world, yet concealing her innocence and fertility, her thorns made it nearly impossible for others to see past her surface.
She would not blossom into a proud, passionate, vibrant creature; For her fear of only being seen for her thorns held her back from opening up to become vulnerable, to reveal herself.
But I saw her for who she truly was.
She was not a fierce, dark creature.
A tender, good natured soul unseen to most because of how she appeared.
Others could not bathe in her beauty.
They could only avoid what they thought she was, without ever knowing how lovely she was inside.
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