Roach

Am I your rose, Or your roach? You assure me i’m the rose, But how can I tell for myself, I wished I could see inside your pretty skull, See the flowers of thoughts growing there, Some made from seeds of envy and hate, Some from seeds of the most delicate love and tenderness, I wished I could watch them bloom and blossom, I wish I knew if you meant everything, Every word you've said, How can I tell? Your face is permanently embedded in my head, With fine details, As sharp as the line of your jaw, And along with the face comes the threat of your potential lies, Still fresh.