You never told me your favorite color
Or about the monsters under your bed.
I don’t know how you take your coffee
Or which thoughts you prefer pushed from your head.
I won’t venture with you into the yonder, wild and blue,
Or even admire you in any place your grace adorns.
I can neither aver my aversion to good fortune
Nor understand this rose’s edges and thorns.

Not every rose has thorns. This one does though.

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