Do I really remind you of white roses?
the kinds you pick up from the market
or arranged delicately by you.
They both look the same
But they don’t feel the same.
In the quiet corners of my heart,
Exists a melancholy melody of unfulfilled love
I know its not within your control
But this love maimed me in a way time can’t heal
So now I call out your name
And I whisper
The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?
Just like how you’ve always fawned over the universe,
I hope you’re among the stars
Battered and bruised.
