Theirs was like the relationship
between the sun and the roses.
The roses need the sun;
the sun doesn’t need the roses.
We all know the sun never really notices
the roses until they vigorously sway
their petals from side to side.
Rose thought she’d be a lot happier
if the Sun came down to live with her.
She shook and swung, flirted and sucked
[his light in as much as she could? Amen].
She’s severely burning,
but she’s glad she’s the hot guy’s main girl.
She’s now closer to being his wife;
death is her new, perfect life.