Red Rose

the beautiful rose petals have long since withered away, and i am now left with a stem, and a thorn in my side. how i had overlooked the danger, blinded by the evident, but temporary beauty and happiness the of red. each day a realized it was not lasting, things were changing; the rose would darken, the petals would fall and beauty was giving way, quite rapidly to sadness.
time spent with you, something i used to love, and admire, was turning into something unrecognizable and dark. i had a choice to make: should iĀ hold onto to something and continue reminisce about its beauty, or should i throw it away and move on? but then i came to my senses and thought: there is no point in keeping what has obviously dried up, and now lacks beauty. every time i see you, you bring and add sorrow and pain to my life; sorrow i never ever thought would be possible from a beautiful red rose fading, and pain from the realization that things will and can never go back to how they used to be.


is beauty something we own, or is it something much deeper, is it apart of us?

is beauty something you possess, or is beautiful something you are?

do they have beauty, or are they beautiful?

someone said something to me, and i found it so interesting how other languages use different expressions, words, tenses, etc. to mean the same thing essentially;

it causes you (or at least me) to think about words literally to see how it could make sense.

a classic example is in french: hungry is not something you are, but rather, hunger is something you have.

now i ask my question again: is beauty something you have, or is beautiful something you are?