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THORNY ROSES
Don't give me gifts to help your conscience ease,
laying each one on my frozen heart,
when you tear my tender thoughts apart
yet think by roses my deep hurt appease.
They cannot repair wounds or dry my tears,
nor mend the jagged fragments of our years.
You think by pretty posies to restart
a rekindling of romantic cupid's dart,
expecting me to overcome my fears,
restore regard that you believe your due.
Deceitful gifts of guilt disguised as gold,
imitation as all love from you,
bought and paid for with the trust you sold.
Take back your thorny roses, and adieu.
