Lovers come with roses.
Roses and sweet words. 
But you?
You came to me with thorns.
Thorns and wars.
Thorns that you eased out of my bleeding surfaces.
The surfaces of my walls which were breached by sweet words and sweeter actions by those masquerading as lovers.
You came to me with war.
A war of words.
A war of words and thoughts and beliefs because you were a proponent of truth and would have chosen truth over me, had there been a choice.
And soon there did come a choice.
But then you chose me.
And I knew then that you were truth.
My truth.
I realized then that thorns are sweeter than roses and wars are better than words. Simply because they come from you.

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