She handed me a rose,
its stem studded with thorns,
when I swept my hand gracefully toward it
she forced it roughly into my palm.
She pressed down hard, breaking the skin,
and as the blood began to run down my arm
she turned around and laughed at my pain,
breaking my trust with one single act,
but as she walked away I followed
with my head held high I continued
to let her stab me in the back.