PAPER ROSE

His love for me was like a paper rose.

An imitation of beauty,

Forever captured in a medium.

It cannot age or decay or die,

But it was cold,

It was dead,

And yet it never quite lived.

His feeling was an imitation

Of the real beauty.

In passion and love and foreverness.

Fondness would never substitute love.

A paper rose will never,

Be real or delicate or as cared for.

His love for me,

Can never be real.

It was only a beautiful facade.

A very beautiful facade.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s