My love blossomed into a beautiful flower,
But just like the seasons, her words changed.
They got cold like December;
And my love, in all its beauty and glory,
Withered away.
My love blossomed into a beautiful flower,
But just like the seasons, her words changed.
They got cold like December;
And my love, in all its beauty and glory,
Withered away.
That last two words! Real, true power. Great work, poet!
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