Our love blossomed like a rare and vibrant flower,
Its petals soft as morning dew, in our secret bower,
With tender hands, we nurtured it hour by hour,
Its fragrance a promise of eternal power.

Dreams we spun like threads on a loom of fate,
A tapestry of passion, where joy couldn’t abate,
But shadows crept in, and love began to deflate,
Leaving our canvas of dreams to wither and wait.

Once ablaze with the fire of a thousand suns,
Now embers cool, where once our hearts had run,
The warmth we knew, now a whisper in the night,
A flicker fading, swallowed by time's endless flight.

In my heart, a thorn of sorrow takes its place,
Love’s bright flame now a dim and distant trace,
Yet I hold onto memories, in their fleeting grace,
As our fading flower finds its final embrace.

How I long for a slow life, where moments drift like dandelion seeds,
Each whisper of time a soft sigh in the stillness of quiet meads.
No hurried footsteps disturb the hush, no frantic rush nor urgent needs,
Just the gentle cadence of twilight's breeze, where soul and silence intercede.

In the attic of my thoughts, where shadows dance and secrets dwell,
I weave dreams with threads of moonlight, in a solitary, enchanted spell.
Away from the clamor of worldly strife, where tolling bells no longer compel,
Here, solitude sings its sweet refrain, in echoes only the heart can tell.

Oh, to linger in the hush of dusk, where the day's harsh edges soften,
To dwell in the embrace of words unsaid, where dreams and whispers often
Conspire to paint the canvas of time, in hues of amber and saffron,
In this quiet sanctuary of the soul, where peace reigns sovereign.

I took off our promise ring the day I convinced myself to forget you,
thinking that time would erase my memories
if I just tried hard enough.

But today I wear it again, and it presses harder against my skin,
what once was a token of our love
is now a relentless reminder of what I can’t escape.

In an orchard where sunbeams weave through leaves like golden threads,
I glimpsed her, a cherry blossom in white, where beauty gently spreads,
Her presence, a delicate fragrance of vanilla, soft and true,
With cheeks aglow like dawn’s first light, and ribbons kissed by dew.

Her hands, with tender touch, reached for the fruit within her grasp,
A dance of fingertips on ripened skins, a symphony of sweet and rasp,
Each bite a quiet celebration, a whisper of nectar on her lips,
While I, a distant fruit in another grove, felt my heart’s soft, aching rips.

How I long for the cherry blossom, my heart entwined with distant dreams,
To be a fruit she might someday yearn for, beneath the moon’s gentle beams,
Yet, here I linger in the shadows, content to watch her close embrace,
Hoping one day she might desire me, though I remain in a far-off place.

In a realm where morning dew caresses ancient stones, where wisdom’s breath is sweet,
I tread a path where peace blooms, and divine whispers gently greet.
My spirit, once a wanderer, now stands in fields of golden light,
Yet in the eyes that glance my way, I’m a safe harbor in the night.

Though I’ve sculpted my heart with tender hands and crafted dreams with care,
Why am I but a distant shore, a calm retreat from tempest’s snare?
In life’s vast symphony of stars, I long to be the vibrant tune,
Not merely the familiar chord, but the melody that makes hearts swoon.

Perhaps it’s fate’s unseen threads that weave us into roles we never chose,
I stand, a vessel of tranquility, yearning for the day that truth bestows.
To be seen not as a comfort found when every other dream has fled,
But as the flame that lights the soul’s deep quest, a choice for which hearts are led.