Kinda Like a Dozen but More and With Budweiser

What would it take,
to make you come back home?
What about dozens of roses,
left outside your door?
A dozen for,
every time I had the chance
to tell you I loved you and didn’t take it.
A dozen for,
every time I didn’t lay with you for just
five more minutes.
A dozen for,
every time I didn’t hold you
as hard as I should have.
A dozen for,
every space inside my heart you
take up.
A dozen for,
every conversation,
that should’ve lasted longer.
Every word I should’ve said,
but didn’t,
for fear they weren’t good enough.
A dozen for every moment
I felt completely at peace,
surrounded by your presence.
A dozen for every word
you inspired right out of me.
Dozens for,
every time a look in your eyes
stopped me dead in my tracks.
Dozens for,
every day we have spent apart
and you entered my head.
And eventually,
there’d be so many roses,
you could never possibly
smell them all.
And there’d be so many,
they could make a path,
that could lead you
right to my front door.