"Roses are red, violets are blue, we're all hopeless romantics and so are you." "Including you?" I sarcastically asked. "Not exactly, but dear lord you're the most hopeless of all." Her voice went smaller.

I'll come back with roses to lay on your grave. Perhaps, someday, the voices will leave.

[First of The "Hyacinth" Poetry Book Series] I once wished that we won't wither. But I'm sorry, I guess those flowers were us after all.

[COMPLETED] "Think I should go to him?" "What are you serious? No, don't go to him. Let's ram him instead. WELL OF COURSE GO! GO TO HIM!" Luna Evergreen had just met her Cupid's target, whom she wished to love for the rest of her life. Perhaps the true definition of a remedy. Or was it?