i've come to believe that there is certain virture in one willing to freeze in order that he or she may escape even the most mild of unpleasant odours. These people aren't entirely common, not at all really, but i can honestly say i have always been one.
i want to adore the scent of spicy things, full of body and passion. If i were, however, to honestly name the flower whose perfume i am most fond of, i'd name the sweet pea. It's frustrating to be all of want for one thing, and most innately another. i don't remember ever having received red roses, nor giving them...i seem all pinks and yellows...i did often carry crumpled petals in my pockets though, in some hope...
Not that i at all mind pinks and yellows, but when i choose the sweet peas for my careful little bouquets, i pick first all the darkest reds and deepest purples...
Maybe it's all from my love of romance.
If i were to come upon one dozen, beautiful, dark, red roses, i should want nothing but for them to have fierce thorns on which i may carefully place each finger tip.
If i were to go on a picnic atop a lovely, little, moss-covered cliff, there would be nothing for it but to drop my saucer and cup of tea over the edge...each would float and perch on a branch, and i, with my love for violet china, would jump off after, landing in the sea below - a tragic accident over a cup of tea-
i want billowing dresses of white, that will swim in the water all about me, so i may imagine myself to be beautiful, and death-cold, and, for once, all full of secrets quiet and untold. No maiden drown in a white dress could ever have told all her secrets. And of them, none would be for men, though it may even have been a man who planted the moss seeds and put the cup of tea in my quietly shaking hand.(such simple and unintuitive acts) No, my secrets would be for mermaids, or faeries, or the beautiful one who left a trail of dried red rose petals, before she floated over the cliff the night before. Yes, for her. She led me with roses, me in all my white and pink and yellow. No...no. i left behind a trail of pink and yellow tears, in the middle of a beautifully cold day, while on my way to tea. My secrets i'll keep, each quiet and pretty, and though she follows my path, all she'll see...a floating cup of tea.