I heard it a hundred times already
but you whispered it just once.
If the dead rose pedal speaks of memories,
then when did our pigment fade?
A tragedy to my choices.
A love, for voices.
Gathered from an innocence,
such danger crept past.
To think I was the lesson
but the lesson fades
with the withering rose.
I forgot the water, when your tears dried up.
So ****,
this again.
A new time to be tended, i borrow.
With new flames to burn, tomorrow.
You whispered just once,
but the rose never lies.