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When I first laid eyes on her, she was sitting on a park bench, undressing a rose of its petals.
She'd caught me watching her, she smiled and asked,
"Why are the most beautiful things in life so damn fragile?"
I didn't have an answer, only another question,
"Do you think that you're fragile?"
I sat beside her, plucked a rose from its stem and began stripping it of its petals.
She made it look so eloquent, I made it look like a viscious attack.

We sat for hours on the park bench, we told eachother our deepest secrets and admitted all of our flaws.
We spoke of the things you can confide in a stranger, but never in a friend.
The sky had turned a beautiful mixture of colours as the Sun began its journey over the horizon.
I'd never considered a sunset to be a fragile thing, but I'd never seen it as she had.
"Sunrise and Sunset are the only time people stop to admire the Sun. Half an hour and it's all over and the Sun is forgotten."

That night, we slept together and I learnt just how fragile the beautiful things really are.
She trembled in her sleep, she wept in her dreams and it hurt knowing why.
I didn't fall asleep until the early hours of the morning.
I spent the whole night watching her, a fragile rose, undressed of her petals.

Like the Sun, she rose whilst I slept, her beauty and fragility in full form.
Something I would never see outside of my dreams.
We spent the morning in silence, sipping coffee and undressing flowers.
I looked at her, more beautiful than any rose and glowing more than any sunset.
I had become involved in the single most beautiful and most fragile thing that had ever existed.

Love.

She kissed me once before she left, I never even asked her name.
As she walked to the door, she was the fragile rose, leaving a trail of petals.
And as the door swung closed, she was the fading Sunset, one which would never be forgotten.

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