I withered away,
as you left.
There were nights a-plenty,
Where I lied and wept.
That's the beauty,
in flowers.
Once they wither,
it leaves room for growth.
And, oh,
Just how much I've grown. 
I never would have complained,
had I known.
I grew back, 
in full bloom.
And found ways 
to pull my affection out
of the hands of doom.
And now, 
you're just another story to tell.
A simple reminder that,
I ascended up from the depths of hell.
I want to thank you,
for the ways in which,
you caused me to grow.
Because, here I am
A violet Rose.
Vibrant petals,
and metal thorns.
I'll only give my petals,
for those who are more than deserving.
But I'll give my thorns,
to those who deserve it, even more-so.