I have been in love once before.The love was as alive as any human. It bloomed and reflected brighter than I had ever experienced. We planted our seeds and watched it grow. And the petals opened up to give off a wonderous fragerant.
But like every plant's cycle, we had to watch it wither and dry. Someone forgot to water our flower until we were forced to cut it out from the soil and trash it.
It's hard to see something so beautiful become just one of many in the grave of flowers. Something I fought so hard to preserve and sustain just became a dead dream. I always find myself visiting the tombstone of what we had too often. I have grown attached to this flower and find myself still subconsciously devoted to this idea. No matter how persistently I try to let go, you are chained to my wrist.
Will this be a baggage that I'll have to carry for the rest of my life? Because this baggage keeps accumulating so many unwanted thoughts and memories, that the suitcase can't even close anymore.
Sam
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