Rose
As beautiful as it may seem from afar,
It is as dangerous when it is close by.
If you are not cautious enough,
And leave the thorns uncut,
Then you may get pricked.
And then you have no choice but to snatch your hand away,
And watch as a drop of blood falls from the small hole, pierced into your skin.
Then another ruddy drop,
And another until it turns into a stream.

He was like that, too.
He was beautiful to look at,
The beautiful brown eyes, the messy black hair,
The way his tattoos curved the base of his neck.
And when he blew smoke into the air,
It captured my essence.
He was bad news, I knew that from the way his lips turned to a snarl,
And then a smirk, and then finally a smile,
Luring and trapping me into his ploy.

I was not careful enough,
Why would I be?
He made me feel safe and loved,
A feeling that I longed for.
I was intoxicated under his spell.

But then I touched the thorn,
And the mirage shattered.
It was broken, the spell, the illusion, me.
His tricks, I figured out.
Everything I thought to be real and genuine for years
Disintegrated, just by a prick.
And the bleeding started, it was just a drop at first,
But then the intensity increased into more drops until, 
It was trickling into brook, flowing on my tainted tiles.

The prick left a scar.
It is not easily seen from the distance,
But if you come closer and probe,
You could still see the small spot, from where once pain flowed through.
Still visible, no longer hurting, but definitely engraved.
What can I say,
The rose was just too beautiful to leave alone