My heart bleeds the color of each rose every day I’m not with you.

Another day and the red and whites could slowly turn to blue.

I take the roses and put them all in the formation of a heart,

But it’s going to take much more than that to get this heart to start.

I give you twelve roses, like the numbers on the clock, for I’ll be with you all the time.

My mind is a question, for all I ask is this, will you be mine?