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But is it haunting if it is longed for?
Waits for me to come every evening
Wishing I’d brought roses like I used to
It is autumn now
The roses are withered
Their petals float to the ground with the browning leaves
Trusted in her, their beauty a keepsake until they bloom again
She had her own beauty once
But when I departed I took it with me
Why am I always so cruel?
So selfish I have become
Returning only torments her
If I left could she be joy again?
Could she move through life
I underestimate her
She is strong
It is me who is weak
I come every evening
A wavering possibility of replacing her loneliness
One day she may need me to stop
Although she does not wish it, that day is long passed
But I will not return to ashes.