The roses had wilt
The bridges we built
Shattered with blood and tears
Of antagonism and of our fears

Yet at midnight I caught myself
Half-awake collecting the ashes
Driven away by melancholy,
Shadows of your light abruptly vanishes

You, you are still on my memory
Vivid and colorful, I discern the hue
Of the all the photographs we never took
And the empty frames hanging by a hook