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Paper Roses

A reflection on love and what it is to me

By Bianca WargoPublished 5 years ago 1 min read
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Paper roses.

That was his birthday gift to me–

oh, and Chick-Fil-A.

I do love Chick-Fil-A.

A lot of people I know would have wanted

Fancy dinners,

Birthday cake,

Purses,

Clothing,

Jewelry...

But I would have been content no matter what.

It doesn't matter if the roses were fresh-cut or paper.

If anything, I'm happier with paper roses.

I'm more content that he would take the time

To make me something–

To put fourth that effort himself.

I see every paper rose he's ever made me

At my bedside every morning

And I smile.

I can't help but think about

How lucky I am to have met him–

How open and honest we can be with one another–

How much either of us is willing to put fourth for the other.

Had he just bought me regular red roses,

I'd wonder sometimes if he really thinks about me

As more than his but also as me.

But I don't have to wonder,

Because paper roses take more time to make.

Because paper roses can mean paper cuts as you make them.

Because paper roses take more thought and more effort than cutting real ones from the bushes.

love poems
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About the Creator

Bianca Wargo

Psychology and English Writing double major at Kean U

1 Thessalonians 4:3-8

Leaving my old writing up to go back sometimes and see how God's changed me to be better.

PODCAST: Gold Scars (available on Spotify & Anchor)

insta/TikTok: @biancawargo

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