Dead love

My love was a beautiful bloom,

Stalking once, on the strong stems of our bond,

Planted in the soil of care and true emotions,

Until we decided to reap our love to make irrevocable garlands,

The ones that would consummate our eternal togetherness,

But a picked flower withers soon, sooner than many promised relations,

Now the same florets decorates the grave of our dead love.

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