I don't want your flowers and roses
And presents and bouquets
I'd rather be in the poetry you write, every line that makes you smile.
I want to be in the tales of love you thought were filled with stupid myths and believable lies.
I don't want the happily ending stories of kisses and byes,
I want the mysteries of love that we'd solve through each stage of our lives
I don't want to see you formal and cool, show me the side you were forever going to hide.
Show me the roads you walked on barefooted, scared and unaware why
And the red roses you watered even when their thorns scarred you for life.
Tell me about the days you were miserable and the days you smiled wide.
Tell me the time when you thought giving up was alright.
Show me the pictures you painted, colourless, black and white
And the rainbows you hated, for they left you at the night.
Trust me, I'll hear, I'll hear it all without a sigh.
Tell me the tragedy of your life, and I swear by the Gods, I'll listen all night.