The things you deserve the most, sometimes I may not have them, but still you stand by me.

A dozen little gifts that I cannot give you, when I should’ve promised you the world you deserve,

I have you nothing more than a sad warning, that our world might come crashing down on us.

And still you picked up the pieces of that world, put it back together, and with a bruised heart,

You nourished mine.

And here I am again, lost amidst a thousand apologies, not a rose that I can offer you.

I know you’ll still stay, clutching at your healing heart for even a small petal, yet you’ll stay.

Madder men than me have cut a piece of their own selves for love, and better men could give you a garden.

All I can offer is this: I’m sorry about the flowers, I’m sorry I cannot attain this,

The simplest of gestures.

Do you accept these words, a petal each? A tear in all of them for all that I should be for you, for all I can’t provide.

But three long winters you’ve endured, and three hard times to spring that I’ve wasted.

I’m still here, ready to give my own sanity and life in exchange for all the flowers my poverty can’t buy.

What I cannot give you in coin, I will offer with a forever after, and a milliard more.

I love you, always will, and what I cannot give you now, I will pay twentyfold one day soon.