FATAL

my heart doesn't beat the same without your love flowing through it. the breathe in my lounges no longer exist for our expiration has been persistent from the beginning. we let it fall. perish. love is fatal. as she set fire to the rose petals and they disintegrate like the joys of our relationship. i do not reflect on seldom miseries but they are forth coming. instead i dwell on the future; what seems non existent ...what to fill the void with? no flower is precious enough not even a dozen roses. no more, i can't stand to see another flourish only to wither away .even with all the sun and water it will eventually die with no roots to grow its seeds. as the ashes hit the floor and then swept between the cracks. just that easy it becomes the past. we become an illusion .easily persuaded to have never been. no evidence of having begun, lived or was beauty for all who graced its presence. love: at its best ,its worst. fatal in its -self. causing a great deal of whole hearted emotions driving one crazy to the point of almost what seems like no return. love. a word much like a rose ...temporary for some. just a display of beauty until it no longer can hold on to its last petal. and even then the ashes left behind from love are beauty in disguise. as the tears hit the floor and pour into the cracks the ashes form molding of memories. smells invade the senses and allow for what you thought were dreams to become real. love existed. fatal. at its best, it is its worst enemy.