Lost Love


A blossom of red

But alas

The hand holding it is dead


A blossom of life

upon her cheeks

Without her life

your tears do streak


down your face

with post haste

you go to her side

without a second thought

you can not even hide


Your feelings are upon her

your words fall to her ears

but still, alone with only her

she still can not hear.


If only she had listened

if only she had known

perhaps she wouldn’t have left

to be all alone.

This poem is about: 


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