Bouquets of Promises

It's amazing that
when I'm hurt 
and I let my pain show,
Sweet promises are the fix to which people go.

They go to a cute little flower shop,
Pick out some pink roses,
And into my hands that bouquet drops.

Sure, that sweet sentiment 
Can perk me up at first. 
But what about the next time I got hurt?
The next time someone brings me a bouquet of pink roses?

How many times is the same trick supposed to work?
Before I become immune?
At some point, the nose knows the route being taken,
At some point, the brain recognizes the song and dance.

When will someone realize that 
There are other flowers in the shop
just as beautiful and fragrant as the roses,
Only, these could be more refreshing,
And carry more meaning.

Maybe, one day,
Someone will approach me,
See the tears in a different way,
and instead of taking me a bouquet of the same promises,
They choose one of vibrant lilies.

And this time, 
I could trust that I will never again cry
Over a bouquet of cliche promises.

Author's Note

I wrote this one based on a topic I found on Instagram: bouquet of promises. The post was intending the suggested topics to be cute Valentines Day ones but, I just thought of how promises are often broken. More specifically, I thought of the idea that one should not inhale too deeply when handed a bouquet of promises, so as to fall under the spell of the sweet fragrance and get oneself hurt. I think you can figure the rest out.