It seems to be
that the Lily is exactly what I want.
Its sweet whisperings were too much,
its songs a playful taunt.

It seems I've caved.
I dug out my *****
and dug up my Lily,
I made a quick trade.

Such innocent pedals,
the Lily once did possess,
now lie in shambles
by my urgent caress.

It seems I enjoy lillies,
though I never thought it.
We seem to just click,
and never think to quit.

What of the Rose?
The Rose weeps silently,
its last pedals blackening,
its life fading quietly.