We Died Where Roses Grew

This is a guest post written by Opheliac. She is an outstanding writer and one of my personal favorite bloggers that I’ve come across on WordPress. Please take the time to read this post; I’ve also provided the link to her blog so you can see her other excellent posts.

We Died Where Roses Grew

I believe in the beauty of imperfection. When I first opened my eyes into this world you were there, holding your hands carefully cupped around my heart. In that moment I wondered why your brows knitted together, why your lips formed a straight line. Were not humans supposed to smile? Weren’t their mouths meant to form a circular shape that normally expressed happiness? Then what it was that darkened your own soul while creating the love, the woman that would suit you best? Was I too frail?

I do not believe I was fragile, the strength of my fingers surprised me as I sank my nails into the ground and gathered sand underneath. But you did not mind my childish gesture. You just stared at me in curiosity as if you were not completely convinced your craft was truly perfect. I understood. I knew the reason behind the disappointment in your eyes. I was designed to share the same eyes, the same beliefs as you, to never establish a life for myself that did not involve the presence of my creator.

As I stood there, in your arms, motionless like a rag doll I discovered the briefest of pains in my chest. The blood pumping organ began running, provoking a sharp sensation throughout my circulatory system. I asked you to explain to me the feelings I was experiencing and you just shook your head, burying your face in my hair. Your whole body tensed when you sighed. I was a failure. I suddenly felt roses layering around my entire body, caressing me with crimson smoothness while plunging their thorns in my skin, adhering to the insides of my flesh. It hurt. At least I think it did. The emotion in itself was not pleasant, I knew from the way I was trembling, from the water flowing from my eyes. You told me that crying is normal and I pushed you away, shouting my desperation.

I demanded that you change me, that you build me again from the scratch and you refused. You denied me the right of improving who I was because despite your efforts I would never be perfect. Having flaws was a natural trait of our nature and yet all I wanted was for you to see me stripped of errors, of mistakes which you considered you made while giving me a form.

A faint smile finally sneaked across your lips and your hand reached out but your fingers met nothing but air. I was gone, I knew better than you that perfection was not what you needed. Your genius required someone with a fiercer will, a stronger heart and a love that was born, not manufactured.