A love like this

The course of this love,

Is all creases and curves,

Where the folds hide coyly,

The secrets of the bud,

And

The blooming pain,

Of it's magical transformation,

To a charming pink rose.

And reveal with aplomb,

It's silky countenance.

Yet concealing it's scars,

And

An unsaid pain,

Of a short existence,

Diffused in it's ecstatic fragrance,

Making lovers wonder,

What stays in love?

And what fades away?