butones,
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast.
Love came with kind words and promises of forever. It came with a gentle understanding and trust, never requiring any kind of explanation. It came with a bouquet of roses, delicate and pure, as beautiful as we were.
It is not proud, it is not rude. It is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs.
Slowly, the flowers began to wilt, flawed but still beautiful. It happened in tiny disagreements, here and there. Little things that were easily dismissed, but not easily forgotten, building up as time went by without us knowing it. We continued living in our fairytale, unprepared for what was to come.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects.
And the fairytale unraveled as the first petal fell. Arguments turned into war, with the little things seeming so much bigger than they were before. What used to be security became something akin to weakness as words of kindness were transformed into something sinister. Love became a battlefield where nobody was meant to come out unharmed.
It always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
After the dust settled, after the damage was done, only then did we look back at the mess that we made. Only then did we notice the cuts, the bruises, and the wounds that we created. Every fallen petal reminded us of what couldn’t be fixed, of what we broke. Only then did we realize, in the aftermath of the chaos, that maybe the fairytale wasn’t worth the war.
Love never fails.
But now, as I sit here alone with dried up petals and the shattered remains of what once was ours, I can't help but think about the love that has come and gone.
The lines in bold are quoted from 1 Corinthians 13:4-8.
Literary (Submission): Love In Roses
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast.
Love came with kind words and promises of forever. It came with a gentle understanding and trust, never requiring any kind of explanation. It came with a bouquet of roses, delicate and pure, as beautiful as we were.
It is not proud, it is not rude. It is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs.
Slowly, the flowers began to wilt, flawed but still beautiful. It happened in tiny disagreements, here and there. Little things that were easily dismissed, but not easily forgotten, building up as time went by without us knowing it. We continued living in our fairytale, unprepared for what was to come.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects.
And the fairytale unraveled as the first petal fell. Arguments turned into war, with the little things seeming so much bigger than they were before. What used to be security became something akin to weakness as words of kindness were transformed into something sinister. Love became a battlefield where nobody was meant to come out unharmed.
It always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
After the dust settled, after the damage was done, only then did we look back at the mess that we made. Only then did we notice the cuts, the bruises, and the wounds that we created. Every fallen petal reminded us of what couldn’t be fixed, of what we broke. Only then did we realize, in the aftermath of the chaos, that maybe the fairytale wasn’t worth the war.
Love never fails.
But now, as I sit here alone with dried up petals and the shattered remains of what once was ours, I can't help but think about the love that has come and gone.
The lines in bold are quoted from 1 Corinthians 13:4-8.
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