I don't like roses.

Their meaning weighs on me too heavily.
The red screams of a passion
that is one-sided,
for I don't believe I can return
such emotions.

I don't like roses.

Maybe I'm just with the wrong person?
And that's why I feel no passion.
I struggle so much to get romantically involved
and it makes me feel broken.
They always give me those **** flowers.

I don't like roses.

I don't know what love is.
Though I know what it's like to care.
These flowers are too focused on the idea of love;
a cliche, cookie-cutter, romantic option,
that seems safe, yet it puts me in a depressive fit.

I don't like roses.

But, I really wish I did.
I really wish I did.