A/N: Sorry for this one, but I thought of this extended metaphor, and then…
Character Versatility Challenge – prompts: Lily Evans Potter, James Potter
Their love was like a precious flower. The seeds were flung out by a careless hand that cared not where they landed, but they found soft soil to sink into and take root in. It then grew out of them, grew out of their pain and suffering and baggage, and emerged from its cold confines. Under their watchful gazes, it blossomed and preened and lit up the entire room with simple-minded joy and wonder. It was the centrepiece of their lives and their souls.
But then its petals started to droop and coil in upon themselves. The very things that they had sworn would never happen to them came to pass, and those things weighed down on the once-strong stem like an overpowering sun. Time ticked on, and the flower suffered. It shrunk and wilted and died and brought painful nostalgia to all those who had once appreciated its beauty and truth.
And, after its deterioration, all that was left was the task of throwing it away and rinsing the vase out and storing that glass contraption in a secure cupboard in the hopes that it would one day be used again and that, next time, the flower might last.