I knew a girl who loved roses so much
she cut the flowers by their stems
and plucked off petal by petal
to see if they loved her back
and then fawned over the barren brown
shriveled sticks that stabbed at her
fingers and wrists
and thorns that pricked at her skin
just so
to be treated the way
she treated the roses
wore away at her beautiful exterior.
it was ugly,
but it was mutual
and that's why she called it love
