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Where do all the petals go? Where does failed love go to die?

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I saw it fall; I watched it fall, but I prayed that it would fly.
The wind slowed down, the world went dim and I watched the poor thing die.
Just the other day I peered; I took a gentle glance.
The blood red petal stood so sternly, but the poor thing stood no chance.
I did not worry for its health, but rather for its romance.
The love within the ovule was keeping them alive; the love within the pistil kept me warm inside.
To watch the poor thing materialize then,to watch it fade away was like reliving the time I killed myself…I mean faded away.

If you cut away the petals, and if you don’t water the plant you get a faded memory of a beautiful romance
To wallow in the depths of a once forgotten love is like standing on the jagged edge, falling, hoping you become a dove.
Where do all the petals go when the rude winter bites? When they lose all of their beauty who will dare withstand their plights?
I saw it fall; I watched it fall, but I prayed that it would fly.
My prayers were too late; the weak romance had died

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