She is much better at

keeping love on pages 

than inside these hands.

Love is seed that needs 2 hands to plant 

to nourish and watch it grow.

But she and he can't decide what garden we will make.

Rather she wants a garden but men with vases and hands not familiar with dirt keep picking her.

She retracts her thorns for the easy picking.

She is tending a graveyard of lovers.

She plucks roses made of metaphors and lays them on their tombs.

Just like flowers they were dead the minute they were severed from roots but they looked good for a little while didn't they?

If only she knew what he knew, that they were bouquets instead of gardens.

She is a pretty rose but you should see her planted and cared for.

But she was decoration for a window sill and spring doesn't stick around long.

They told her they weren't ready for gardens but she sees them now, with their very own gardens and she feels her thorns 

growing. . . 

She kept planting herself in vases hoping for growth 

Believing their smooth hands but now she looks for callouses.

Calloused palms know of love and of care they don't fear the prick of thorns. 

But still she is better at keeping love in he own hands . . . .