The dried purple roses on her black bedroom dresser held all her secrets.  Privy to her most private moments, they’d seen and heard it all. The tears, the laughter, the angry words – the love.  

There was the scrolled wrought iron music stand trellised with ivy in the corner and the antique rocking chair that had cradled her many a night. But there was something powerful about the discolored lavender bouquet whose leaves tightly engulfed the heart of each flower.   

It was years before she’d seen the parallel.

“God damn it!  Why are you doing this?!” he hissed, pulling back from her embrace. His fury overriding the yearning his body had for release.    

“What are you talking about?” she responded, confused by his abrupt withdrawal.

“You were there.  I saw it on your face – I felt it in your body. You were there and you just…..disconnected.  Shit! You turned away from me and looked out the fucking window!”

Perched above her, his eyes bore through her. Instinctively she turned from him again.  “You make it sound as if I don’t love having you inside me,” she responded defensively.

“You let me in but you won’t let go!” he demanded.  “Why can’t you just let go?” he said, rolling off her and tossing his legs over the side of the bed.  He sat there with his back to her.    

“Is that what this is about?!  You?  Are you feeling insecure?”

“No.  It’s about you. It’s about you keeping me at arms length,” he spit out grabbing his clothes off the floor.

He was right.  She knew it.  She’d had other lovers.  Yet the vulnerability she allowed herself with them – she would not allow herself with him.  

“Don’t go,” she said softly reaching for his arm.

His response was tinged with disgust. “Why not?”   

“Because I don’t want you to?” Gently she pulled him back to her body and they laid there in silence. 

Stammering, her words broke the stillness.  “I… I can’t….let go.”

“Bullshit.  We both know you have with other men.”

Cursing herself for being honest about her previous encounters she responded slowly, “But they weren’t you. They didn’t matter.”  

“Wait a minute,” he said shaking his head slowly in disbelief. “You’re saying that because you care about me – you’re keeping me at an emotional arms length physically?”  For a moment he paused, then threw his hands up in frustration. “Listen to this – its crazy making! You’d rather let a disposable lover please you – than someone you say you care for?” 

“I never said I wasn’t in need of intense therapy,” she responded, trying to lighten the moment. But his eyes, locked on hers, would allow no escape. “They can’t cut as deep. Or hurt as much. With you, I’ve more to lose.”

She felt his arm pull her close as his finger traced a tear down her cheek.  “Then with me you’ve more to gain,” he said softly lowering her beneath him. “Let me in.”

The dried purple roses on her black bedroom dresser held all her secrets.  They’d seen and heard it all.  And in many ways, they were just like her.   

They weren’t always lifeless….