Marluxia's POV
Petals of blood red; your favorite color I remember.
Leaves your exact shade of green.
The gentle grace of the rose, only comparable to your softened curves.
The thorns, shielding the outer beauty.
A wondrous creation, bringing nothing but self-destruction.
Those who pick roses are bound to get cut. Brilliant and lethal.
I twirl the flower in my fingers.
Everything seems to remind me of you.
I laugh soundlessly to myself. You never did like flowers. I let it fall silently and walk away.
Damned bitch.