Black Rose Ephemeral

Being with me is kind of like being given a rose on a lovely day.  
It's beautiful, and somehow special... despite the simple and cliche nature of the gesture.  
You accept it with the utmost gratitude - perhaps even honor - as you carefully avoid the thorns on the stem...  
You wish to cherish it, maybe even show it off some; so you put it in a vase, and place it somewhere open -- being sure to give it plenty of water, and cut the stem just right so it will keep longer...  
But with time, it loses it's charm.  
The beauty withers, and the sweet scent grows stronger as the petals turn dark, then shrivel and fall... But no matter how well you care for it, soon you'll be left with naught but an ugly, thorny stem, with a mess of fallen petals...