Like a flower, my love for you grows.
It blossoms into something beautiful,
Only to wither away in the Autumn twilight.
Why?

Is it because it is not pure, or true?
No, it is because I cannot contain it.
It out grows even my own expectations,
Unfortunately like weeds.

It is because I cannot stand to be hurt.
My emotions are more fragile than my bones,
Easily broken and shattered with only one word.

I find it so difficult to love.