Rose, with Lily and a flower
made from paper and styrofoam
so it won't break and she doesn't glower,
wouldn't wanna ruin that pretty face
it's encased
cold, iron casket in place,
she don't want it to break

her heart's made o' gold,
and gold, it can bend,
made from a mold,
that hearts come in

entered, engraved
please let her save,
her friend
whether fake or pretend

Because she doesn't want to cower,
when the world is facing her.
She feels as though it burns
her skin.

And she does her best,
whether complex,
or simple,

She,
faces a broken heart,
made from paper and a that's a start,
given beauty,
but never given love

It's,
hard to recognize a failure,
made with virtue in place of rails,
and gunpowder.

She wishes for a stone,
one heavy enough to keep her cold,
beneath her worries, all postponed,
for tomorrow's Rose -gold.

Another one.
This one made from confidence unbroken.

Another one.
This time we give her all we're made of.

A different one.
The difference is that this one gets remembrance.

For Rose.
For Rose we would do most anything, again.

For Her.
For Lily we would break a broken vase.

And for a flower, like you,
we'd never fall short of an apology.
Something we,
never got right.

Oh, Lily, we're so sorry for that right.
That night.

Sincerely,