Memories tend to fade away with time,

Or so they say to make us believe.

Indeed everything will fly away,

And we trusted that, so naive.

Why do the thorns of last year hurt

More than how they did back then?

Why do the tears flow for a bit longer,

When we're reminded of it again?

All the roses we picked and loved

Wilted before we could cherish them.

What's left just picks and tears

At our skin, glued on to the stem.

Through all the frustration that's hidden,

We tend to hide the love along with it.

With time, the love gathers dust, forgotten

And all that's left pushes us further down the pit.

- Izzie