It was true that I once loved you.
A very naive love, unconscious and immature.
You. Queen of hearts, the desired one.
Forgive me if I loved you like an object, but an object is how I felt like.
Your fiery words pleased my passive attitude.
I did and I will do everything to follow love.
Not like past times.
Nevermore.
Now you are a dried rose.
A poem with no author.
A love without a reason.
You have never been a main character in this theatre.
It's only about me.
May 21, 2020
May 21, 2020 at 7:24 AM UTC
It was true that I once loved you.
A very naive love, unconscious and immature.
You. Queen of hearts, the desired one.
Forgive me if I loved you like an object, but an object is how I felt like.
Your fiery words pleased my passive attitude.
I did and I will do everything to follow love.
Not like past times.
Nevermore.
Now you are a dried rose.
A poem with no author.
A love without a reason.
You have never been a main character in this theatre.
It's only about me.
You are the one and only. Others are complementary. This story is about yourself. Write your lines while you learn from life.
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