A joy to persist upon, you are my favorite flower.
The color purple, as rich as mollusks of the Tyrian,
Everlasting, and one of many pleasantries,
One of so much history. They speak through
Your mirrored epiphanies and read like hieroglyphics.
A real love, they must be difficult to understand,
And I write letters such as this one to you
In hopes you would get them.
I know full well those runes you own
Distress you enough, but this is an ode
Of sorts, so no more blood of yours is drawn.
You leave behind cards, petals of pink
And red; you are my useful wife,
My rose of sharing.
