Is the species that best describes lovers.
Because, while they are not made without flaw,
They show balance between one another.
If you are reckless and pick them up quick,
Dead set on the scent of their sweet flower,
You will grasp at thorns and feel their prick
Until blood runs cold and love grows sour.
But if you take a moment to see them,
To look past the sharp thorns of their body,
You will find your way to a small, smooth stem,
And know they are more than just a poppy.
For a love that is devoid of thorns,
Is sure to die from the oncoming storms.
*I don’t own this image. It is originally from this site. Credit to them for such a beautiful picture.