"Roses are red,
violets are blue,
vibrant as love,
my love for you."

And yet what of it to the rose,
the colour of your love?
Why tire her
with your cacophony
of disjointed emotions,
stretching and bending
across your heart,
giving life
to an empty shell?

Must you call upon the violet
to prove your love?
Must you abuse
weeds and flowers
with no pulse of their own
to show that yours still beats?

What would you do
if the rose were to wither,
if there were no gardens,
if the sun never set
and came so close
you could steal it's glow
even if only for a glimpse,
if there were no rainbows,
and no rainy days?

Can you ever truly love
on your own terms?
Can you love someone so much
and understand it so little
that no rose, lily, or violet
could ever come close?