broken promsies

   
my roses withered  
& died  
  
they once thrived on your touch  
when you went went away  
i pressed them in my heart's diary  
  
they first bloom  
when our love was strong  
smiling upon us  
in our innocent lust  
  
then came the grey  
& the sun of your countenance  
clouded over  
you shied from my touch  
  
grew weary of our secret garden  
the one we planted in hope  
but hope fades  
& becomes cynical  
cynical of a heart that can't be true  
  
our roses always showed their real colors  
sadly i failed to do the same  
my hands stained them black  
i tainted our garden of trust  
watering it with deceit  
  
love's petals all fell away  
you collected them in your hands  
dropping them one by one to the ground  
saying she loves me  
she loves me not  
  
with a broken heart i profess my love  
but our last rose died  
  
& there is nothing left  
except pressed memories  
of what once was