I've never understood romance,

and I've especially never understood cut flowers as gifts.

A boy gives you a gift that will rot and die

to symbolize his love for you?

What?

As for me, don't even think about bringing me flowers without their roots

because I love flowers,

not the idea of flowers.

I'll have none of your pretty words eclipsing ugly truths,

like that 'I love you' means 'I love you until',

and that everything about this is conditional.

Bring me roses with bedhead roots and morning breath pollen

and together these flowers and I will grow.

Bring me the truth that you hate making promises

and you and I will figure out which ones we can keep.

I've never understood romance, or flowers, or poetry.

All I've ever really understood

is complete authenticity.