I should love you, 

but I don’t. 

Maybe should tell you, 

but I won’t.  

 

Out of a thousand flowers 

you chose a rose with thorns 

and ignore the blood 

now dripping down your thumb.  

 

The bees behind your eyes of honey 

look for nectar in a wilting rose, 

so they keep on stinging me, 

even when only a petal remains at most.  

 

You’re so stubborn to acknowledge 

you chose wrong.  

I'm afraid in your hands 

I simply don’t belong.  

 

Your voice still keeps me 

from breathing. 

My voice still stops you 

from leaving.  

​

If “together” is now a question, 

should “forever” be a suggestion?