Love is like a string—

pulling me along, fling after fling.

It’s not a game I like to play,

but still I play it, day after day.

When life gives you lemons,

you squeeze them for lemonade.

When life gives you roses,

you water them until they’ve decayed.

Love is like a rope—

stringing me along, hope after hope.

It holds me there, in the air,

scaring me, affair after affair.

Yes, love scares me,

but only because I know it will hurt.

I know the thorns will scratch,

I know the petals will fall to the dirt.

Love cannot last forever,

like a rose cannot live past november.

And I know this to be true,

but still I let it string me along to you.

Love is a trap—

holding me hostage, mishap after mishap.

Once you’re in, there’s no going back,

it tears you to shreds, scrap after scrap.

And now I’ve been caught in this trap,

in this void, this pit, this dark gaping gap.

I cannot crawl out, the walls are too slick

with the tears I’ve cried and smudged lipstick.

Love is a rose—

it’s tender and caring with gloze after gloze.

But it’s thorns are dangerous and sick,

taking my blood, prick after prick.

Yes, love scares me,

but only because I know it will end.

And I will be broken, yet again.

Heart broken, heart sick, heart sore—

Heartless

And now the roses have decayed

so it’s my time to walk away,

with my water pitcher of love

and my old garden glove.

Now I stand here, in front of your stone

and I look at the roses, all alone.

They’re dead now, too, just like you.

I say goodbye to the roses, and to you, too.