Wildflowers are nothing like roses. They need to be more beautifully cultivated. They grow in places they don't belong. Sticking out like a sore thumb.
But still, they grow tall. Showing off their resilience. Grace birthed through adversity. For a moment, you'd be impressed by its strength. Pretend that it was beautifully designed. Even be charmed by their forbiddenness. But you'd remember.
A wildflower is a hideous imitation of a thing to be loved.
Bonnie knew she was a wildflower. But when he looked at her, sometimes she forgot. That, like the rest of them, he'd return to the rose.