I cut myself on the thorn of the rose because I didn’t pay close attention as I was cutting the bloom off the steam. What is about the rose, the old cliché, how something so beautiful can hurt you. My finger bled only for a short time, later that evening I was reminded again when I squeezed some lemon into my tea, the juice penetrated my cut, and there was that familiar sting again.  Not the first time I hurt myself because I didn’t pay attention, and it certainly will not be my last. I’m a slow learner, sometimes I even figure that it wouldn’t happen again. I am often wrong.

Awkwardness she stated, the girl in my living room not the rose. We once shared a comfortable silence and now we share awkwardness. I don’t think so I replied sucking the cut. I haven’t changed one bit. She says I did and I left it at that. I didn’t want to argue with her, only take her clothes off.  Of course my dreams never come true. Nothing I want ever comes true, but this isn’t about that.

No, this is about how we don’t pay attention, or we ignore what is obvious. A rose has thorns.  Or that I should learn from my past experiences.