in a bed of flowers,
her hair is set adrift from the wind,
a discreet secret tainted on her lips,
that echoes into the unknown.
in a suit of black,
he greets her with a melancholic smile,
forever wondering what more he
could have accomplished.
he could've done more,
she could've done less,
but it's too late to settle the scores.
if you did something wrong, fix it.
if someone's mad at you, fix it.
if you failed to protect them, fix it.
don't push your mistakes onto the next day,
because it might be too late then.
