Teardrops fall slowly,
From a sad heart of mine,
A knife in my soul,
A wound of some kind.
You hand me a rose
As you say those dear words,
And the teardrops stop coming,
they stop falling in herds.
I smile so briefly,
Not sure you had seen,
I smile once again
As you call me your queen.
Those teardrops on roses
They seem so unkind,
But somehow look beautiful,
In my own way and mind.
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