Everything was fresh and brand new.
Kisses. Roses. Hugs. T'was more than enough.
Fights. Jealousy. All are too cute.
Not a thing was a big deal and never rough.
Sweet as you are to me.
Promises are held seriously.
Years have passed and roses had dried.
This love we had was not handled fairly.
I expected roses would die that fast
but never in my heart that we, too are fragile.
Hate instead of love was born.
Wounds, then, never heal.
Expecting too much, got hurt that much.
Roses had died, so do us.
Maybe goodbye would give us peace.
And it all ended that fast.
