You used to ask me
If you could light my cigar
You used to walk me home at night
Even if it wasn’t that dark
Now your roses have 2 meanings:
A beautifully deceiving token
A promise to further commitment
Commitment to what is broken
So when your lighter’s flame grows
Spiraling up from your cruel fingers
I may prick myself again
Trying to steady the cigar in my hand
Thinking it’s the only one I’ll ever have