Cactus

In the years between embraces and the months that stretched “I love yous” thin, An attachment endured the harsh elements of a barren desert. With needles as defense, it threatened and pierced those who couldn’t understand. They misinterpreted manifestation as existence with every Expression of concern or doubt in the plant that relies not on Outsiders’ perception of its physical beauty or strength to be The most powerful of its kind, towering over all the cruel dryland. I pity those who mistake a love unspoken for indifference, for They are the daughters whose awe for a hero wilts in the absence of Water, or shrivels when the sun’s beam proves too crude for pleasant smalltalk. That admiration blossoms and wafts sweetness into the air with each soft Zephyr, but any strong gust could rip roots from their soil and scatter petals Until the mangled flower is left unrecognizable and cold. They are the fathers whose love dies when it isn’t reminded to live. So do not attempt to smooth our edges, because we like them sharp as thorns. May our love keep us at arm’s length, and may arid seasons keep us alive.