the last of the flowers

you stood, looking like you always did in those days.
i could not see the pain the laid in my future. maybe i did, but i didn't.
we touched, and for a brief moment the world actually stopped moving-
it was as if time itself tried to warn us.
but happiness slowly packed up and left, letting misery live in its place.
but it was good, so we said, in the long run. it was just a bump.
i may have changed like u say i have, i am not certain.
i am positive i am not who i was, and you aren't either.
the people we were back then are meant to fall in love.
they were made for each other. we are not.
or maybe we are, but are simply made to not speak.
because of you, the scars have grown deeper.
larger.
bolder.
older.
so we don't speak. the sun passes over us without so much as a friendly nod.
this is life. this was love. that was sanity.
but no more.
the day you said goodbye was the day the earth said hello.
to me. to you. to us, separately together.
and i like it.
our love might have been compared to roses, but the pedals droop quickly as if they themselves are saddened with our love.
our lives should be compared to the dandelions, being carried where life takes us, never taking root in each others soil.