Poetry

Wilted Love

The flowers you got for me are dying.

I can see them wilting at their tips, just like when your love began to fade away.

I can clearly remember that day.

I remember when we went from being loud about our love to the silence. How my heart grew heavy with doubt and pain.

Your love left quite an ugly stain.

Everyone was right about you, and that’s what hurts me the most.

Everything must come to an end, I suppose.

I was so sure it would end with us together, that one weekend in August.

I finally learned to let go and trust.

It was a gamble; loving with such reckless abandon.

Where it all went wrong is what I can’t seem to fathom.

These days, I spend so much time wondering why.

Did you have to betray me? Did you have to make me cry?

I really hope that sometime in this life, I am able to heal.

And I find some closure, that just as those flowers you sent me, even though it is now dead, our love was once real.

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