My sweet love of the past,
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Your roses have whithered since.
But crimson ones came along.
It's suppose to get better.
Why do you still bleed?
Have you gotten a fresh cut over that old wound?
Have you not found someone who would fix you?
Maybe a Shoemaker could mend that sole.
Maybe the Seamstress would sew that tear.
Maybe the Mathematician could solve that problem you left.
Find the Archaeologist to hunt for that lost piece.
Ask the Storyteller for a nice story.
Of how the lonely little boy found a lonely little girl
And ate cotton candies on the clouds together.
Maybe you'll feel a little better after
And realize it wasn't all that bad.
Beyond the dark clouds, a wing'd cupid waits
To shoot on the next blind spot.
But I could see this time,
It will be a sweet jar of honey.
I could almost see you gleaming with glee.
Next Valentine's Day you wouldn't be alone.