Is the distraction an act or figment of imagination?
Something believed to be amusement or light contradiction, even through the feelings are as tender as an ice princess, deeply attached. A crystalline princess looking up; the fact is a carefully created rose is always there.
Can all these years be summed up to the simple word, distraction? The very last thing wanted; nor one step taken day by day, no matter how significant. Does friendship base itself on the word, distraction? Do a friend base their thoughts on a person based on what other people might perceive?
A delicate pink rose still exist; bleeding from the sharp thorns crafted in single, deadly words. Stranger words might hurt; but friend words cut. A deadly rippling effect tearing apart a mosaic. I’m exhausted from a long year of extended work hours and sharp words carefully tearing distancing ones heart.
A black porcelain doll still lives; unmasked, showing it day to day. You just have to see it, a pink rose.