Time changed things. It withered them.
A rose, once beautiful, now wilted and faded.
And yet she watered it daily, drenched it in stubborn love,
With the hope that it would continue to blossom.
Still the first petals began to fall; one by one, edges curling.
He watched, realisation stinging. There was nothing he could do.
He left that rose there too long, to throw it out would be unbearable,
But to look at its lifeless state every day? That was worse.
Time changed things. It withered them.
They were beautiful, but he let them die.
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