A Precious Rose

A pale green hand caresses the petals of a dark rose, barely skimming over their silken surfaces. The woman cups the rose delicatly in one hand. She leans into the rose and inhales deeply, her fiery red hair tumbles down over her shoulders in vast curls, some whisps are caught up in a light breeze. She sighs contentedly, and a small smile graces her soft pink lips.
She straightens up, slowly opening her emerald green eyes. She is regretfully pulling away from the flower, allowing her hand to linger a moment longer before withdrawing completely. A look of sorrow is in her beautiful eyes, along with unshed tears.
Her chest heaves as she attempts to control her emotions. A battle she is swiftly losing. Her breath catches in her throat as she finally submits, and starts crying silently. Large tears trace well known tracks form the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. Some tears are caught up in her long, inky black eyelashes in the form of small beads, similar to morning dew on a spiderweb.
Where each tear is falling and hitting the ground, a small green shoot is emerging from the crisp grass, sprouting green leaves. Within moments, the plants are blossoming. Vast red roses bloom from each bud, seeing this, the womans tears multiply. She takes one bloom in her small green hand, placing a lingering kiss on it, her pink lips contrasting with the deep red of the rose.
Poison Ivy takes a step back, glancing down at the gleaming granite grave before her, it is now surrounded by dozens of roses, each as beautiful as the next. She continues to cry, anguish in her eyes as she mourns her lover, her soul mate whom she will only see again in death.
As she turns regretfully, and walks away fighting the urge to turn and run back with every step, the name on the grave is etched into her memory just as strongly as it is in the granite. 'Harley Quinn.'