Roses
02/15/2013 05:40
Roses are red, so is blood and wine. Love is far sweeter than the fruit from a vine.
Roses are fleeting and soon fade away. It is a poor love that lasts but a day.
Roses are given, from true love they say, but in the end they just want a lay.
Roses have petals that are easily spread, but you will not get me so cheaply in bed.
Roses are meant as a symbol you see, but more must be given, if you will have me.
Roses mean love, the florists proclaim. But to them love and money are one and the same.
Roses mean hope and comfort in grief. These are both true, but not what I seek.
Roses are soft and so is my skin. But my heart is the place that you should begin.
Roses are red, we are back to the start. Along with the blood, there is love in my heart.
Roses are a symbol, but love is real. Love and loved are what I wish to feel.
Roses you give me, but what do you seek? Will you still want me at the end of the week?
Roses you give me, but I want much more. Love is a journey that two should explore.