You lied to me, and thus I got a rose.
Not a red one, but a pink one.
You figured, a rose is a rose.
I smile, like I always do,
Like the kids do,
And you remember that I asked for lilies.
One small strand was all I needed to be sure;
A sparkling, golden strand
On the jacket I bought for your birthday.
It now reeks of salty sweetness
And too much perfume
And I don't wonder why.
The man I gave my calla lily hand to
Returned me one with a rose
And I knew
It wasn't mine,
It isn't mine.
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