She said she doesn’t like pink —
yet the fuchsia roses bloomed defiantly, climbing, curling, refusing to be ignored.
A single white rose hides among them, like a truth she almost said.
The bare branches reach out, tangled like her thoughts.
Petals fall where words didn’t.

This arrangement is a study in contradiction — bold yet restrained, romantic yet unsentimental. Designed as a visual monologue, it invites the viewer to question what color really means, and what it hides beneath its softness.